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FRIEND FRITZ 


A Tale of the Banks of the Lauter 


ERCKMANN-CHATRIAN 

NATIONAL NOVELS. 


MADAME THERESE; OR, THE VOLUNTEERS OF '92. 

The conscript, a story of the French War of 1813. 

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***S/jr uots., 12mo, doth. Price, $1.25 each 
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FRIEND FRITZ 


A TALE OF THE BANKS OF THE LAUTER 


TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF 


ERCKMANN-CHATRIAN 


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NEW YORK 

CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS 

1899 


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FRIEND FRITZ : 


A TALE OF THE BANKS OF THE LATJTER 


CHAPTER 1. 

When Zach arias Kobus, juge depaix at Hunebourg, 
died in the year 1832, his son Fritz Kobns, finding 
himself the owner of a handsome house in the square 
of the Acacias, a fine farm in the valley of Meisen- 
thal, and a goodly number of crown-pieces safely in- 
vested in mortgages of first-class property, dried his 
tears, and after a great many sage remarks on the 
vanity of human affairs, and the folly of heaping up 
riches, to be scattered abroad perhaps by spendthrifts 
or profligates, came at last to the conclusion to do 
nothing at all, and thus avoid all cause of self-re- 
proach afterwards. 

* And the following morning, finding that his reason- 
ing of the evening before stood the test of reflection, 
he carried it out a little further : 

“You will rise in the morning,” he continued, 
“ between seven and eight : old Katel will bring you 
your breakfast, composed of such material as you 
shall have selected : then you will drop down to the 
1 


2 


¥rie'nd Fritz, 


Casino to read the paper, or take a rum in the fields 
to give an edge to your appetite : at twelve you will 
return for dinner : after dinner you will examine your 
accounts, receive your rents, and do your marketing: 
in the evening, after supper, you will pay a visit to 
the brewery of the Great Stag, and have a game or 
two of youker or rams with any one who may come in : 
you will smoke your pipe, empty your glass, and be 
the happiest man in the universe. Always keep your 
feet warm, your head cool, and your stomach in good 
order, for this is the teaching of wisdom ; but, above 
all, be on your guard against three things : growing 
fat, taking shares in a joint-stock company, and 
getting married. With these precautions, Kobus, 
I’ll wager that you will live • to be as old as Methu- 
salem ; those who come after you will say, ‘ That Ko- 
bus was a right clever fellow, a man of sound sense, 
and such a capital companion of an evening.’ ” 

And so for fifteen years Kobus followed exactly 
the course of life he had prescribed for himself. His 
old servant Katel, the best cook in Hunebourg, al- 
ways took care to have his favorite dishes for him, 
dressed in the way he liked best ; he always had the 
best sour-krout, the best ham, the best chitterlings, 
and the best wine in the whole country ; he regularly 
took his five pots of hocTc-hier at the Stag Brewery, 
regularly read the same newspaper at the same hour, 
and regularly took a hand at youker or rams, now 
with one and then with another. 

Change was busy around him, but Fritz ICobus 
never changtxi. All his old companions got up in 


Frtend Fritz^ 


3 


the world, but Kobus never felt a pang of envy at 
their success. On the contrary, when he read in his 
paper that Yeri-Hans had been gazetted captain of 
hussars on account of his bravery ; that Frantz Sep el 
had invented a machine for spinning hemp at half the 
previous cost ; that Petrus had been appointed to the 
chair of metaphysics at Munich ; that Nickel Bishof 
had received the order of merit for his beautiful 
poetry, straightway he rejoiced and said — 

‘‘ Look what trouble these brave fellows give them- 
selves. This one hazards life and limb to guard my 
property, that one puzzles his brain in inventions for 
providing me with clothing at a cheap rate, another 
spends days and nights in composing poetry for my 
amusement and pleasure. Ha ! ha ! ha ! what good- 
natured fellows they are, to be sure ! ” 

And Kobus’s jolly face fairly beamed with delight, 
his full red lips parted wide, showing two rows of firm 
white teeth, his fleshy nose expanded with pleasure, 
and he burst at last into an explosion of laughter 
which seemed as if it would never end. 

Moreover, as he was always careful to take a good 
deal of exercise in the open air, Fritz’s condition im- 
proved from day to day. His fortune too increased 
moderately, inasmuch as he never took shares in 
bubble companies, and was not anxious to grow rich 
at a jump. He was free from the cares of a family, 
as he remained unmarried. Everything prospered 
with him ; everything satisfied him \ ever jy thing 
pleased him ; he was a living example of that good 
humor which is the accompaniment of good sense 


4 


Friend Fritz. 


and practical wisdom, and as a matter of course be 
had plenty oi friends, as his pockets were known to 
be well filled with crown-pieces. 

No one could be happier or more contented than 
our friend Fritz, but let me tell you it was not with- 
out some trouble, for I leave you to imagine the in- 
numerable propositions of marriage he had to refuse 
during these fifteen years ; I leave you to imagine the 
numbers of widows and blooming young girls who 
were anxious to devote themselves to his happiuess ; 
the cunning plan of prudent mothers, who, month 
after month and year after year, tried to attract him 
to their houses, and induce him to decide in favor of 
their Charlottes or Gretchens — no, it was decidedly 
not without trouble that Kobus preserved his liberty 
in the midst of this universal conspiracy against it. 

Worst of all, there was the old rabbi, David Sichel, 
perhaps the greatest matchmaker that ever trod this 
lower earth, who was positively furious in his anxiety 
to get Fritz married. You would have thought his 
honor and reputation were staked on the success of 
the affair. And the worst of it was that Kobus was 
really fond of old David. Had he not from his 
childhood seen him sitting morning and evening by 
the fireside of his father, the worthy juge de paix / 
had he not, even from his cradle up, listened to him 
arguing, discussing, and screaming in his shrill nasal 
tones; had he not climbed on his old bony knees to 
feel his long beard ; had he not learned the Hebrew 
jargon from his lips ; had he not played with him in 
tlie old courtyard of the synagogue ; and, above all, 


Friend Fritz. 


5 


had he not a vi’^id recolle(/tion of the entertainments 
of which he partook, when quite a child, in the tent 
of green boughs which David Sichel, like every good 
Israelite, took care to erect on his premises at the 
Feast of Tabernacles ? 

All these memories became mixed and blended in 
Fritz’s mind with the happiest days of his childhood, 
and consequently he had no greater enjoyment than to 
behold, either near or far, the figure of the old rabbi 
with his threadbare hat perched on the back of his 
head, his black cotton cap pulled down on his neck, 
his old green cape with its high greasy collar mount- 
ing above his ears, his hooked nose all daubed over 
with snuff, his grey beard, his long thin legs clad in 
black stockings which hung about them in large folds, 
as if they had been a couple of sweeping brushes, and 
his round-toed shoes fastened with copper buckles. 
Yes, that yellow, kindly face, with the mingled air of 
shrewdness and good-humor, had the power of amus- 
ing Kobus more than any other in Hunebourg, and as 
far off as he could distinguish him in the street he 
would shout in nasal tones, imitating the voice and 
gesture of the old rabbi : “ Ah, ha ; old posche- Israel ^ 
how goes it with you ? Come along here till I give 
you a drop of my kirschenwasser ! ” For although 
David Sichel was upwards of sixty and Fritz was 
only thirty six, they called each other by their Chris- 
tian names, and could not exist without each other. 
Then the old rabbi would come up slowly, shaking 
his head with a comical expression, and in a sort of 
chanting voice would address him as follows : — 


6 


Friend Fritz. 


“ Schavde, Schaude / Will you never change, thenj 
will you always be the same wild scamp that you have 
ever been since the time I used to jump you on my 
knees and allow you to pluck my beard ? You are 
just like your father, Kobus ; he was an old scoffer 
who pretended to know the Talmud and the prophets 
better than I did, and who mocked at all sacred 
things like a regular pagan ! If he had not been one 
of the best-hearted men in the world, and given judg- 
ments in his court as just as those of Solomon, he 
would have deserved to be hung ! And you are as 
like him as two peas — you are an epicurean like him, 
and so I forgive you — I can’t help forgiving you.” 

Then Fritz would Laugh till the tears ran down his 
cheeks, and they would both go upstairs together to 
have a glass of kirschenwasser, which the old rabbi 
did not despise in the least. Then they would have 
a talk in the Judisch, or Jewish, jargon about the 
affairs of the town, the price of grain and cattle — in 
short, about everything. David sometimes was in 
need of money, and Kobus advanced him considerable 
suras without charging interest. In a word, he loved 
the old rabbi dearly, and David Sichel, on his side, 
next to his wife Sourl6, and his two sons Isidore and 
Nathan, had no dearer friend than Fritz ; but then 
he abused this friendship by his endeavors to get him 
married. 

Scarcely had they been seated for twenty minutes 
opposite each other, chatting about business, and 
looking at each other with that pleasure which friends 
always feel on meeting face to face, in exchanging 


Friend Fritz. 


7 


ideas, in speaking with that entire freedom whicli one 
can never do with strangers, than in one of those 
pauses which occur in conversation when a subject is 
exhausted, a dreamy expression would gradually steal 
over the old rabbi’s countenance, from which suddenly 
rousing himself with a sort of feverish eagerness he 
would exclaim — 

“ Kobus, are you acquainted with the young widow 
of the late Counsellor Roemer ? Do you know, she is 
a handsome woman — a very handsome woman ! She 
has lovely eyes, that young widow ; and a most amia- 
ble disposition, too. Do you know that the day be- 
fore yesterday, as I was passing in front of her house 
in the Rue de I’Arsenal, she leaned out of her window 
and said to me, ‘ Oh, I declare, there is the worthy 
rabbi Sichel ! How rejoiced I am to see you, Mr. 
Sichel ! ’ Then, Kobus, being quite surprised, I 
stopped and replied, smiling, ‘ How can an old fellow 
like David Sichel find favor in the eyes of such a 
charming person as Madame Roemer ? Ho, no ; it 
isn’t possible, and therefore I know it is only your 
goodness of heart which makes you say such things.’ 
And really, Kobus, she is both good and charming ; 
and a clever woman, too. To use the words of the 
Song of Solomon, ‘ she is like the rose of Sharon and 
the lily of the valley,’ ” continued the old rabbi, get- 
ting more and more animated. 

But seeing Fritz smile, he interrupted himself, and 
shaking his head, exclaimed — 

“ You are laughing ! You must always be ’augh 
ing ! Do you call that a proper way of carrying on a 


6 Friend Fritz. 

conversation ? Look you, is she not all that I say ? 
Am I not right ? ” 

“ She is a thousand times better,” replied Kobus ; 
“ only tell me the rest. She brought you into her 
house, did she not ? She is anxious to marry again, 
eh?” 

‘‘Yes.” 

“ Ah, very good ; that makes the twenty-third.” 

“ The twenty- third that I have introduced you to, 
and that you mean to refuse ; is that it, Kobus ? ” 

“ Quite true, David. It is with pain, with great 
pain, I say it. I would have liked to marry, just to 
please you, but you know ” 

Then the old rabbi would get angry. 

“ Yes,” said he, “ I know you are a complete ego- 
tist ; a man who thinks of nothing but eating and 
drinking, and who has a most exalted idea of his 
own importance. Well, you are wrong, Fritz Kobus; 
yes, you are wrong to refuse respectable women like 
these, the best matches in Hunebourg ; for you are 
getting old. In three or four years more you will be 
growing grey ; then you will send for me and say, 
‘ David, I wish you would look out for a wife for me. 
Cast your eyes about. Can you not find something 
that would suit me ? ’ But then it will be too late, 
you wretched scoffer, that laugh at everything ! And 
this widow is right well disposed towards you, too ! ” 

The more angry the old rabbi grew, the more Fritz 
laughed. 

“ It is that habit of laughing of yours,” cried David, 
rising and making as if he would cover his ears with 


Friend Fritz. 


9 


his hands ; “ it is that manner of laughing that I can* 
not bear. That is what makes me angry. A man 
must be a fool to laugh in that fashion ! ” 

Then stopping himself — 

“ Kobus,” said he, with an angry grin, “ you will 
drive me out of your house with your manner of 
laughing. Can you not be serious for once, for one 
single time in your life ? ” 

“ Come, come, posche-Israel^"^ Fritz rejoined, “ sit 
you down and let’s have another glass of this old 
kirsch.” 

“ May this kirschenwasser be my poison,” said the 
old rabbi, now really angry, “if I ever darken your 
door again ! That trick of laughing of yours is so 
thoroughly stupid and senseless that it faii-ly turns my 
stomach.” 

And he stalked out of the room and down the 
stairs, exclaiming as he went — 

“ It is the last time, Kobus, the last time 1 ” 

“ Bah ! ” said Fritz, leaning over the balustrade, 
and grinning with enjoyment, “you will be back 
again to-morrow.” 

“ Never ! ” 

“ To-morrow, David ; you know the bottle is still 
alf full.” 

The old rabbi hurried along the street with long 
strides, muttering to himself, while Fr^tz, as happy as 
a king, replaced the bottle in the cupboard, repeating 
with a chuckle — 

“ That makes the twenty-third ! Ah, old posch^ 
Israel^ you have given me a hearty laugh ! ” 

1 * 


10 


F'nend Fritz. 


The following day, or the day after, David made 
his appearance again on Kobus’s invitation ; they 
seated themselves at the same table, and not a word 
more was said of what had taken p la^e. 


CHAPTER IL 


One day, towards the end of the month of April, 
Fritz Kobus rose very early, opened his windows, 
which looked out on the square of the Acacias, and 
then, creeping back to his warm bed, pulled the 
coverlet up about his shoulders, arranged the down 
quilt over his legs, and gazing at the rosy light 
through his half-closed eyelids, gave two or three 
long yawns of entire satisfaction. His thoughts ran 
on this thing and that, and from time to time he 
opened his eyes to see if he were really awake. 

Outside, the sky was of that clear blue which is 
generally seen at the melting of the winter snows, 
when the clouds scatter, and the opposite roofs, with 
their little fernery at the windows, the intervening 
tree-tops, and all objects around appear brilliant with 
light ; when you feel as if you were growing young 
again, as if a new life were coursing through your 
veins, wh^n all these familiar sights which you had 
missed so much during the long winter reappear one 
by one — the pot of flowers in your opposite neighbor’s 
window, the cat creeping about the leads, and the 
chirping sparrows recommencing their interminable 
battles. 

Gentle gusts of the warm air swayed Fritz’s cur- 
tains backwards and forwards, and then at times the 


12 


Friendj Fritz, 


fresher breeze from the mountains, cooled by tht 
snows which still lingered in the deep ravines, eddied 
about the apartment. 

Far off in the street you could hear the good wives 
of the village chatting and laughing together, as with 
vigorous strokes of their brooms they swept away the 
melting snow that choked up the gutters, while the 
dogs barked louder and the fowls in the yards cackled 
more cheerfully than usual. In a word, it was 
spring. 

By dint of dreaming in this half-waking state, 
Kobus had ended by falling fast asleep again, when 
-the tones of a violin, sweet and penetrating as the 
voice of a friend who greets you after a long absence, 
roused him from his slumbers, and, as he listened, 
brought the tears into his eyes. He scarcely ven- 
tured to breathe, so eager was he to catch the sounds. 

It was the violin of the Bohemian Joseph, which 
was surging to the accompaniment of another violin 
and a double-bass, in his bedchamber, behind the blue 
curtains, and was saying — 

‘‘ It is I, Kobus, I, your old friend ! I return 
with the spring and the glorious sunshine. Hearken, 
Kobus : the bees are humming around the earliest 
flowers, the young tender leaves are bursting forth, 
the first swallows are wheeling through the blue ether, 
the first quails creep down the newly-turned furrows, 
and here I am, come once more to embrace you ! 
Henceforth, all the miseries of winter are forgotten, 
from henceforth I resume my wanderings from village 
to village, along the dusty roads, or beneath the 


l^'ritnd Fritz. 


13 


warm, heavy drops of the summer shower. But 1 
could not pass without coming to see you, Kobus. 1 
come to sing to you my song of love, my first wel- 
come to the spring.” 

All that Joseph’s violin said plainly, and many 
more and deeper things — those thing.-i which bring 
back the earliest recollections of childhood, and which 
speak to ourselves and curselves alone, so that the 
tears came into Kobus’s eyes without his knowing why. 

At last, very gently, ho drew aside the curtains ol 
his bed, the music still playing on more gravely and 
touchingly than ever, and saw the three Bohemians 
standing near the entrance of the apartment, and old 
Katel behind in the doorway. He saw Joseph, tall, 
thin, yellow, in rags as usual, his chin stretched over 
the violin wdth an air of earnestness and feeling, the 
bow thrilling over the strings as if palpitating with 
love, his eyelids half closed, his masses of black woolly 
hair struggling from beneath his tattered broad-leafed 
felt hat, and falling on his shoulders like the fieece of 
a merino sheep, and his wide nostrils flattened over 
his thick bluish upturned lips. 

He saw him thus, his whole soul absorbed in the 
music, and near him Kopel the hunchback, as black 
as a crow, his long bony fingers the color of bronze, 
working tortuously over the strings of the bass, his 
patched knee thrust forward, and his tattered shoe 
planted firmly on the floor; and, further off, the 
young Andres, his large black eyes, surrounded with 
a circle of white, raised to the ceiling with an air of 
ecstasy. 


14 


Friend Fritz. 


Fritz saw these things with a feeling we cannot 
describe. And now I must tell you why Joseph camt 
thus to serenade Fritz every spring, and why this 
touched Fritz so deeply. 

A long time before this, one Christmas eve, Kobua 
happened to be at the hostelry of the Stag. The 
snow was lying three feet deep outside. In the great 
public room, which was half filled with tobacco-smoke, 
the smokers stood around the huge metal stove, whilst 
from time to time one or another would move away 
for a moment to the table to empty his glass and then 
return to warm himself in silence. 

They were standing thus, thinking of nothing at all, 
when a Bohemian entered. His bare feet were peep- 
ing out of his ragged shoes ; he was shivering with 
cold, and began to play with an air of deep dejection. 
Fritz thought this music beautiful ; it was like a ray 
of sunshine breaking through the grey mists of 
winter. 

But behind the Bohemian, near the door, half-con- 
cealed in shadow, stood the watchman Foux, with the 
air of a wolf on the look-out for its prey, with its 
ears cocked, its pointed muzzle, and glistening eyes, 
Kobus at once guessed that the Bohemian’s papers 
were not en regie ^ and that Foux was watching to 
pounce upon him on his leaving the room, and con- 
duct him to the watch-house. 

It was for this reason that, feeling indignant at 
srTch conduct, he went up to the Bohemian, put a 
thaler in his hand, and slipping his arm in bis, said 
to him — 


Friend Fritz. 15 

“ I hire you for this evening. Come along with 

me.” 

And thus, arm in arm, they left the room together 
in the midst of the general astonishment, and more 
than one thought to himself — “ That Kobus must be 
mad to go about with a Bohemian leaning on his arm ; 
he is certainly a great original.” 

Meanwhile Foux followed them at some distance, 
slinking against the wall to avoid observation. The 
Bohemian seemed in great terror, fearing he would 
arrest him, but Fritz said to him — 

“ Don’t be afraid ; he will not dare to lay a finger 
on you.” 

He accompanied him in this way to his own house, 
where the table was laid for the feast of the Christ- 
chUd, with the Christmas-tree in the centre on a snow- 
white tablecloth, whilst all around the kuchen, pow- 
dered over with white sugar, and the kougelhof, thick 
with large raisins, were arranged in suitable order. 
Three bottles of old Bordeaux, wrapped in napkins, 
were heating on the marble slab of the white porce- 
lain stove. 

“ Katel, look for another plate, knife, and fork,” 
said Kobus, shaking the snow off his feet. “ I mean 
to celebrate the birth of the Saviour this evening with 
this brave fellow, and if any one comes to take him. 
let him look out, that’s all.” 

The servant hastened to obey, and the poor Bohe- 
Djian took his seat at the table, full of wonder at these 
things. The glasses were filled to the brim, and ther 
Fritz stood up and said — 


16 


Friend Fritz. 


‘^In honor of our Lord Jesus Christ, the friend oi 
the friendless ! ” 

At the same moment Foux entered. His surprise 
was extreme to see the ziegener seated by the side oi 
the master of the house, so, in place of taking a high 
tone, he merely said — 

‘‘ I wish you a merry Christmas, Mr. Kobus.” 

“ Many thanks. Will you take a glass of wine with 
us ? ” 

‘‘ No, thank you. I never drink wine when on 
duty. But this man — do you know him, Mr. Kobus ! ” 

“ I know him, and will answer for him.” 

“ Then his papers are in order? ” 

Fritz could hear no more ; his round cheeks grew 
pale with anger ; he rose, and seizing the watchman 
by the collar, thrust him out of the room, exclaim- 
ing— 

“ That will teach you to enter an honest man’s 
house on Christmas Eve.” 

Then he resumed his seat, and as the Bohemian 
trembled with fear, he said — 

“ Don’t be afraid ; you are in Fritz Kobus’s house. 
Eat your food in peace, if you wish to gratify me.” 

He made him drink a good di aught of the Bordeaux, 
and knowing that Foux was still watching in the 
street, notwithstanding the snow, he ordered Katel to 
get ready a comfortable bed for the poor fellow for 
that night, and the following morning to provide him 
with a stout pair of shoes and some old clothes, and 
not to let him leave without taking care to put some 
cold meat and bread in the pockets. 


Friend Fiitz. 


17 


Foux waited till the last note of the mass was over, 
and then went off ; and as the Bohemian, who was no 
other than Joseph, started early in the morning, there 
was nothing more of the affair. Kobus himself had 
forgotten all about it, when just at the commencemeuL 
of spring in the following year, being in bed one fine 
morning, he heard soft music at the door of his room. 
It was the poor swallow whom he had saved from the 
winter snows, and who had come to thank him with 
the earliest rays of the returning sun. 

Since then Joseph had made his appearance every 
year at the same period, sometimes alone, sometimes 
with one or two of his comrades, and Fritz always 
received him like a brother. So it was that Kobus 
saw his old friend the Bohemian on the morning in 
the way I have told you, and when the double-bass 
ceased its deep thrum- thrum, and Joseph, having 
given his last long-drawn stroke with the bow, raised 
his eyes, Fritz stretched out his arms to him from 
behind the curtains, crying, ‘‘ Joseph ! ” 

Then the Bohemian came forward and embraced 
him, laughing and showing his white teeth, and said — 

“ You see I don’t forget you. The swallow’s first 
song is for you ! ” 

“Yes, yes, and yet this is the tenth year ! ” cried 
Kobus. 

They held each other’s hands, and gazed at each 
other with tears in their eyes, and as the two others 
stood gravely looking on, Fritz burst out laughing, 
and said — 

“ Josenh, hand me my trousers.” 


18 Friend Fritz. 

The Bohemian having ohej'^ecl, he took twc; thai rs 
out of the pockets. 

‘‘ These are for you two,” said he to Kopel and 
Andres; “you can dine at the Three Pigeons. 
Joseph dines with me.” 

Then jumping out of bed and commencing to dress 
himself, he added — 

“ Have you made your round of the taverns yet, 
Joseph ? ” ^ 

“ No, Kobus.” 

“Well, make haste and do so, for at twelve o’clock 
precisely the table will be laid. Please goodness, we 
will have one more merry bout together for the sake 
of old times. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Sj)ring has come again, 
and we must see and give it a proper welcome. 
Katel ! Katel ! ” 

“ Then I will go at once,” said J oseph. 

“ Yes, yes, old fellow, but don’t forget twelve 
o’clock.” 

The Bohemian and his two comrades descended the 
stairs, and Fritz, looking at his old servant with a 
smile of satisfaction, said to her — 

“ Well, Katel, here is spring come back again. We 
must get up a little feast in its honor ; but wait a 
moment ; let us commence by inviting the guests.” 

And leaning out of the window, he shouted out to 
a little urchin who was just then passing in thu 
street — 

“ Ludwig ! Ludwig ! ” 

The little feliow, who was the son of Koffel the 
weaver, stood stock still, with his nose in the air, his 


Friend Fritz. 


19 


mass of curly white hair all at sixes and sevens, and 
his little bare feet making holes in the melting snow. 

‘‘ Come up here ! ” cried Kobus to him. 

The child lost no time in obeying, and stood at the 
door of the room, his eyes cast down, and scratching 
his head with an air of embarrassment. 

‘‘ Come in, my lad ; listen to me ; but, first, here 
are two groschen for you.” 

Ludwig took the two groschen, and stuffed them in 
the pockets of his linen trousers, passing his* sleeve 
across his nose as he did so, as much as to say, “ Very 
good.” 

‘‘You are to run to Frederick Schoultz’s in the 
Rue du Plat d’Etain, and to Mr. Haan’s the tax col- 
lector’s, at the Swan Hotel. You understand me? ” 

Ludwig bobbed his head in token of assent. 

“ You are to tell them that Fritz Kobus invites 
them to dine with him at twelve o’clock precisely.” 

“ Yes, Mr. Kobus.” 

“ But stop ; you must go also to the old rabbi 
David’s, and tell him that I expect him to coffee about 
one o’clock, and now be off with you — quick ! ” 

The little fellow clattered down the stairs as if he 
would break his neck, and Kobus from the window 
watched him for a while running up the muddy street, 
and jumping over the gutters like a greyhound. The 
old servant still stood waiting. 

“Hark you, Katel,” said Kobus, turning lound, 
“ you must be off to the market at once. Choose the 
very best both of fish and game that you can find. It' 
there is any early fruit bring it, no matter what the 


20 


Friend Fritz. 


price ; the main point is to have everything of th€ 
best. I will look after the laying of the table, and 
getting up the wine, so you have nothing to attend to 
but the kitchen. But make haste, for 1 am certain 
Professor Speck and all the gourmands of the town 
are already on the ground, securing the choicest 
morsels.” 


CHAPTER III. 


After Katel was gone, Fritz went to the kitcheu 
and lighted a candle, in order to take a look over hin 
cellar and choose a few bottles of good old wine to 
celebrate the festival of spring. 

His broad, good-humored face beamed with inward 
contentment as he looked forward in imagination to a 
long series of happy days following each other in close 
succession, even to autumn — to the asparagus fHe, the 
bowling parties at the Pannier of Flowers outside 
Hunebourg, the fishing excursions with Christel, his 
farm-manager at Meisenthal, the gliding down the Les- 
ser in a boat, under the flickering shadows of the great 
elms, which hung over it, and almost met at the top ; 
then Christel, with the fishing-pole on his shoulder, 
crying out ‘‘ Halt ! ” when they were close to the trout- 
pool, suddenly spreading out his net in a circle like an 
immense spider’s web over the glassy water, and draw- 
ing it in again all alive with the sparkling fish. He 
saw all this already in imagination, and a great many 
things besides ; the setting out for the chase in the 
beech forest near Katzenback, the char-db-hanc full of 
merry fellows, their high leather gaiters buckled tightly 
to their legs, their game-bags strapped on their backs 
over their grey blouses, their shot-bags and powder- 
horns slung over their hips, their double-barrelled giui^ 


22 


Friend Fritz. 


between their knees, the butt resting in the straw at 
their feet — all huddled pell-mell together. The dogs 
tied behind, snapping, barking, pulling, and he himself 
on the box driving up to Roedig the gamekeeper’s 
lodge, and then seeing the rest of tire party off, whilst 
he stayed behind himself to look after the dinner, to 
fry the onions and put the wine-flasks in the coolers. 
Then the return of the sportsmen in the evening, some 
with empty bags, and others blowing their horns in 
sign of successful sport. All these happy days passed 
before his thoughts as he was lighting his candle — the 
hay-making, the harvest, the vintage — until he fairly 
chuckled with delight. 

At last he descended the stairs, shading the candle 
with his hand, the bunch of keys in his pocket, and a 
basket over his arm. Down below underneath the 
staircase he unlocked the door of the cellar, a large old 
vaulted apartment, very dry, and the walls all covered 
over with incrustations of saltpetre, which sparkled 
like crystal. It had been the cellar of the Kobuses 
for a hundred and fifty years, from the time when his 
great-grandfather Nicholas placed the first butt of 
Markahrunner in it in the year 1715, since which tirae, 
^ hanks to Providence, it had been increased year after 
} ear by the prudence and foresight of succeeding gen- 
erations of Kobuses. 

He threw open the door, his eyes expanded widf 
with pleasure, and saw before him the two little blue 
cellar windows which looked out on the square of the 
Acacias. Then he passed slowly in front of a row oi 
little casks strongly hooped with iron, and resting on 


Friend Fritz. 


23 


fchick beams ranged parallel with the wall, and, con- 
templating them, he said to himself — 

“ This Gieiszeeler is eight years old ; I bought it 
myself from the growers. It ought now to have set- 
tled enough : it is full time it was bottled. Next week 
I will engage Schweyer the bottler, and we will com- 
mence the job together. This Steinberg, now, is eleven 
years old ; it met with a mishap — it did not clear ; 
but that ought to have disappeared by this time ; we 
shall soon see. Ah ! there is my Forstheimer of last 
year, which I treated with white of egg ; I must have 
a look at it, but I don’t want to spoil my mouth to- 
day — to-morrow or next day will be time enough for 
that.” 

And thinking of these things, Kobus pursued his 
onward course gravely and thoughtfully. 

At the first turning, and just as he was about to 
enter the second cellar, his real cellar, the bottled cel- 
lar, he stopped to snuff the candle, which he was 
obliged to do with his fingers, as he had forgotten the 
snuffers, and, putting his foot on the lighted snuff to 
extinguish it, he advanced in a stooping posture along 
a little vaulted passage cut out of the rock. At the 
end of this passage he opened a second door fastened 
with an enormous padlock, and pushing it open, he 
drew himself up in delight and cried — 

“ Ha ! ha ! here we are at last ! ” 

And his voice echoed beneath the lofty grey vaulted 
roof. At the same moment a black cat scrambled 
hastily up the cellar wall, turning round when it 
reached the little window, and showing its gleamijig 


24 


Friend Fritz. 


green eyes for a moment before it ma de its escape inU 
the Rue du Coin-Brul4. 

This cellar, the soundest and diiest in Hunebourg, 
was partly cut out of the solid rock, and the remain- 
der was built of enormous square stone blocks. It was 
not very large, being at the most twenty feet long b} 
fifteen broad, but it was very lofty, and was divided 
in two by a stout open planking, and fastened by a 
door of the same material. All round the walls were 
rows of bins, in which the tiers of bottles were ar- 
ranged in admirable order. They were of every year 
from 1780 to 1840. The light which penetrated 
through the three openings in the exterior wall, broken 
by the lattice-work, was reflected from the sparkling 
ends of the bottles in a most agreeable and picturesque 
manner. Kobus entered. He had brought with him 
an osier basket divided into square compartments, each 
intended to hold a single bottle, and placing this bas- 
ket on the ground, and holding the candle aloft, he 
passed slowly along the rows of bins. The sight of all 
these noble wines, some with their blue seals, others 
with their leaden capsules, touched him deeply, and 
after a few moments of silent contemplation, he 
exclaimed — 

“ If the fine old fellows who for the last hundred 
and fifty years have taken so much trouble and showed 
so much foresight in storing up these excellent wines, 
could visit the earth again, I am sure they would be 
pleased to see me following their good example, and 
would think me worthy of succeeding them in this 
lower world. Yes, they would be charmed ! for those 


Friend Fritz. 


25 


three bins I filled with my own hands, and I will ven 
ture to say with discernment. I always took care to 
go to the vineyard myself, and to treat with the vine- 
growers in the very presence of the vats. Nor did I 
spare myself any more as regards the care of the cel- 
lar, so that these wines, although newer than the others, 
are not inferior in quality, and as they grow old will 
be worthy to replace them. It is thus that good tra- 
ditions are handed down, and that you will find fami- 
lies who not only equal, but even improve on, the do- 
ings of their forefathers. 

Yes, if old Nicholas Kobus, my grandfather Frantz- 
Sepel, and my own father Zacharias could come back 
and taste these wines, they would be satisfied with 
their grandson. They would see perpetuated in hin 
all their own wisdom and their own virtues. Unluck 
ily they can’t return, it is all over with them here ; 
and I must take their place in everything for all time. 
It is sad, nevertheless, to think that such prudent men 
and such good livers can no longer taste a drop of their 
own wine, and gladden their hearts, thanking God for 
his good gifts. But such is the way of the world ; the 
same event happens to all sooner or later, and that is 
why we should enjoy the good things of life while we 
are here ! ” 

After these somewhat melancholy reflections Kobus 
])roceeded to choose the wines he wished to place before 
his friends tiiat day at dinner, and this occupation put 
him in a good humor again. 

‘‘We will begin,” said he, “ with the wines of France^ 
which my worthy grandfather, Frantz-Sepel, though! 

2 


26 


Friend Fritz. 


more highly of than all others ; arid he \9asn’t, 2)erhai>s 
far astray in that, for tins red Bordeaux is without 
doubt the best thing in the world for fortifying the 
stomach. Yes, let us first lay aside these six bottles 
.>f Bordeaux ; that will be a good beginning. And to 
them let us add three bottles of Fudesheim, which my 
poor father was so fond of ; stay, let us say four bot- 
tles in honor of his memory. That makes ten already. 
But as regards the two others, which are to finish up 
with, we want something choicer and older ; something 
which will make us sing like larks — stay, I must exam- 
ine into this matter a little more closely.” 

Then Kobus, stooping down, gently removed the 
layer of straw from the bin below, and on the old labels 
read as follows : — ‘‘ Markahrunner of 1780,” ^^Ajffien- 
thal of 1804,” “ tTohannisherg of the Capucinesf no 
date. 

“ Ah ! ha ! ^tTohannisherg of the Capucinesf* he 
exclaimed, rising to his feet and giving a knowing 
clack with his tongue. He took one of the dust-cov- 
ered bottles, and placed it reverently in the basket. 

‘‘ 1 know that wine ! ” said he. 

And then for more than a minute his thoughts were 
busy with the Capucines of Hunebourg, who, in the 
year 1793, on the arrival of the French, abandoned 
their cellar, from the pillage of which his grandfather 
Frantz had the good fortune to save two or three hun- 
dred bottles. It was a wiue as yellow as gold, and of 
BO delicate a flavor that in drinking it. it seemed to 
you almost as if some Eastern perfume were melting 
in your mouth. Recollecting this, Kobus felt satisfied 


Frie7id F/dtz. 


27 


witb liis dioice, and, witlioiit filling the remaining 
compartment of the basket, he said to 'aimself — 

That’s quite enough ; another bottle of the Go,' 
pucine and we should all be rolling under the table. 
You should use, as my good father was always in Ihe 
habit of saying, but you should not abuse.” 

Then placing the basket carefully outside the lattice, 
he closed the door, replaced the padlock, and took his 
way back to the outer cellar. In passing he completed 
the contents of the basket by the addition of a bottle 
of old rum, which he took from a separate compart- 
ment, something like a chest, which was fixed between 
two of the pillars supporting the low vaulted roof. 
Then leaving the cellar he ascended the steps, stopping 
at each door to close and lock it carefully. 

On reaching the upper landing he heard the clatter- 
ing of saucepans and the crackling of the fire, showing 
that the preparations had already begun in the kitchen. 
Katel had returned from market, and everything was 
going on steadily and rapidly. This pleased him 
greatly. He continued his ascent therefore, and 
stopping in the passage opposite the kitchen door, 
from which he could see the blazing fire on the 
hearth, he cried out — 

Here is the wine ! I hope you will surpass your- 
self to-day, Katel, and th it you will give us a dinnei 

which will — in short which ” 

Make your mind easy, master,” replied the old 
cook, who did not relish directions ; had you ever 
cause to find fault with me during the twenty years 1 
liave been in your service ? ” 


28 


Friend Fritz. 


‘‘No, Katel, no, on the contrary; but you kiio^» 
there is such a thing as doing well, very well, and 
extremely well.” 

“ I will do what I can,” replied the old woman, 
“ ajid no one can ask more from me.” 

Then casting his eyes about, Kobus — seeing two 
young pullets lying on the table, a superb pike repos- 
ing in the stewpan, a number of delicate little truut 
prepared for frying, and a magnificent 
— was satisfied that all would go well. 

“Very good, very good,” said he, moving away; 
“you are getting on capitally. Ha! ha ! ha ! We 
shall have a jolly evening ! ” 

Instead of entering the usual dining-room he took 
the little passage to the right, and, laying down his 
basket in front of a lofty door, took a key from his 
pocket and opened it. Before him was the gala- 
chamber of the Kobuses — never used except on great 
occasions. The jalousies of the three lofty windows 
at the farther end were closed, and the grey light 
which filtered through them rendered dimly visible 
through the gloom the antique furniture covered with 
yellow damask, a mantelpiece of white marble, and, 
hanging on the walls, a number of large picture-frames 
covered with yellow gauze. 

Frantz first opened the windows and pushed back 
the blinds to allow the air to enter. Seen by the 
light of day this banquet-hall, which was wainscoted 
with old oak, had something grave and dignified in its 
appearance, and one could see at a glance that good 
eating and drinking had been the order of the daj 


Friend Fritz. 


there for many a generation. Fritz then drew aside 
the curtains from before the pictures. The first was 
the portrait of Nicholas Kobus, councillor at the 
court of the Elector Frederick William, in the year 
of grace 1715. The councillor wore an immense wig 
of the time Louis XIV., a maroon-colored coat with 
wide sleeves turned up to the elbows, and fine lace 
ruffles; his face was large and square, and had an 
expression of dignity. Another portrait represented 
Frantz-Sepel Kobus, an ensign in the Leiningen Regi- 
ment of Dragoons, dressed in his uniform of sky-blue, 
with silver lace, a white scarf over his left shoulder, 
his hair powdered, and a three-cornered hat perched 
on the one side of his head. He could not have been 
more than twenty years of age at the farthest, and 
looked as blooming and fresh as a rosebud. A third 
portrait was that of Zacharias Kobus, the juge de 
paix, dressed in a black square-cut coat. He held his 
snuflf-box in his hand, and wore a rat-tailed peruke. 

These three portraits, which were of the same size, 
were solid careful paintings, which showed plainly 
that the Kobuses had the wherewithal to pay the 
artists handsomely who had been charged with the 
task of handing down their effigies to posterity. Fritz 
bore a striking resemblance to them all, displaying the 
same blue eyes, broad fleshy nose, rounded chin, with 
a deep depression in the centre, wide well-formed 
mouth, and a general air of good-humor and content- 
ment. 

Lastly, to the right, on the wall opposite the fire- 
g)lace, was the portrait of a woman, Kobus’s grand- 


30 


Priend Pritz, 


mother, fresh and smiling, with the mouth half open 
so as to show two rows of the most beautiful teeth 
imaginable, the hair raised on the top of the head in 
the form of a ship, and wearing a velvet robe of sky 
blue trimmed with rose-color. 

Judging from this portrait, his grandfather Franz* 
Sepel must have made many a fellow envious of him, 
and you could not but feel astonished at his grandson 
showing so little inclination for marriage. 

All these portraits, with their massive gilt frames, 
produced a fine eflfect against the brown background 
of the lofty hall. About the door was a sort of 
moulding, representing Cupid borne aloft in a car 
drawn by three doves. In fact, the entire furniture, 
the cabinets, with their high inlaid doors, the old 
rosewood chiffonier, the immense, sideboard with its 
massive carved panels, the oval table with its twisted 
legs, even to the polished oak floor with its alternate 
squares of black and yellow, showed what a good 
figure the Kobuses must have made in Hunebourg for 
the last hundred and fifty years. 

Fritz, after throwing back the jalousies, pushed the 
table, which was fitted with casters, into the middle of 
the room, and then proceeded to unlock two cupboards, 
those lofty cupboards with double doors which one sees 
in old wainscoted apartments, and which reach from 
floor to ceiling. In one was the table linen, of the 
greatest beauty and fineness, stored away on tiers of 
shelves ; on the other, the dinner service of magnificent 
old flowered Saxon porcelain, richly mounted and gilt, 
the piles of plates below, and the dishes of all kindi^, 


Fr^jend Fritz. 


31 


the rounded soup-tureens, the epergnes, the sugar 
bowls, and what not, arranged in regular order 
above ; then the plate for everyday use by itself ii. 
the basket. 

Kobus selected a beautiful damask cloth and spread 
it carefully on the table, passing his hand o^er the 
folds to smooth them down, and tying the corners in 
large knots to prevent them from sweeping on the 
floor. This task he performed slowly, gravely, lov- 
ingly. After which he took a pile of dinner plates 
and placed them on the mantelpiece, and by their 
side another pile of soup-plates. He did the same 
with a tray of crystal goblets, cut in large diamond 
pattern, those massive goblets in which red wines 
take the deep blue of the ruby, and wliite that of the 
topaz. Lastly, he arranged the knives and forks on 
the table, and folded the napkins between each with 
great care, in the form of a ship and a bishop’s mitre 
alternately, moving now to the right, now to the left, 
in order to judge the better of the efiect. 

During this operation, his broad good-humored 
features wore an air of absorbing interest impossible 
to describe ; his eyes were pressed tightly together 
and his brows knit. 

“ Yes, that’s it,” said he to himself in a low voice ; 
“ the tall Frederick Schoultz on the side next the win- 
dows with his back to the light ; the tall collector 
Christian Haan opposite him ; J oseph here, mysell 
yonder. That will do, that will be a capital arrange 
ment. Whenever the door opens I shall see before- 
hand all that goes on ; T shall know what is coming 


32 


Friend Fritz, 


next. I can sign to Katel to come forward or to wait , 
it will do very well indeed. Now fo’’ the glasses : on 
the right, that for the Bordeaux, to begin with ; in the 
middle the Rudesheim^ and then the Rohannisberg des 
Capucines. Everything in the proper order and time. 
The oil-stand on the mantelpiece and the pepper on 
the table ; nothing seems wanting, and I flatter my- 
self — ha ! the wine ! As the weather is getting warm 
ah-eady, we shall put it to cool in a bucket under the 
pump, except the Bordeaux, which ought to be drunk 
slightly warmed. I must warn Katel. And now, to 
think of myself, I must shave, and change my shirt, 
and put on my handsome marone coat. That’s going it, 
Kobus, ha ! ha ! ha ! It’s quite a spring fHe, and 
then see what glorious sunshine outside ! Why there’s 
that tall Frederick already taking his v/alk in the 
square ; there’s not a moment to lose ! ” 

Fritz hastened out, and in passing the kitchen door 
warned Katel to heat the Bordeaux and cool the other 
wines. He was beaming with delight, and hummed 
to himself as he entered his room, ‘‘ Summer comes, 
let all rejoice, tra la la ! tra la la ! ” 

The rich smell of the lobster-soup was by this time 
filling the whole house, and tall Fretzel, the woman- 
cook of the JBcmf Rouge, who had been warned before- 
hand, now came to undertake the attendance, since 
old Katel couldn’t be in the kitchen and the dining- 
room at the same time. 

The half-hour had already struck by the clock ol 
Saint Laudolphe, and the guests could not fail to 
make their appearance very soon. 


CHAPTER IV. 


Ls there anything in this lower world pleasanter than 
to sit down with three or four old comrades and friends 
at a well-served table in the old family dining-room, 
and there to fasten your napkin gravely below your 
chin, to plunge the ladle into a tureen of good 
smoking lobster-soup, and to pass round the plates, 
saying, “ Taste that, my friends, and tell me what you 
think of it ? ” 

How happy one feels to sit down to such a dinner, 
with the windows thrown open to the blue sky of 
spring or autumn ! 

And when you take the large horn-handled carving- 
knife to cut a succession of melting slices from the 
noble leg of mutton, or the silver fish-slice to divide 
longitudinally with great care a magnificent pike d 
la gdee, the mouth stufied with parsley, with what an 
air of absorbing interest the others watch you ! 

Then when, with backward sweep of the arm, you 
seize another bottle from the cooler behind your chair 
and place it between your knees, in order to draw the 
cork noiselessly, how they chuckle inwardly, thinking 
to themselves, What is this he is going to give us 
now ? ” 

Ah, I tell you it is a great pleasure to treat your 
old friends in this way, and to think, I shall do thf 
2 * 


34 


Friend Fritz, 


same year after year until tke Almighty calls us hence, 
and we all sleep in peace in Abraham’s bosom.” 

And when, about the fifth or sixth bottle, the faces 
grow animated ; when some feel all at once prompted 
to praise the goodness of the Lord who loads us with 
blessings ; others to celebrate the glory of old Germa- 
ny, its p4t4s, its hams, and its noble wines ; when 
Kasjjer becomes affected and asks pardon of Michael 
for having borne him a grudge, a fact of which 
Michael was quite ignorant ; and Christian, his head 
drooping on his shoulder, laughs to himself as he 
thinks of father Bischoff, who died ten years before, 
and whom he had quite forgotten ; when others talk 
of the chase, others, again, of music, all together, 
stopping from time to time to burst out laughing ; 
then it is that the affair really becomes exciting, and 
the paradise of the hon vivant makes its appearance 
on the earth. 

Well, this was precisely the state of things at 
Frantz Kobus’s towards one o’clock in the afternoon. 
The old wine had produced its effect. 

Tall Frederick Schoultz, formerly secretary to 
Kobus’s father, and a sergeant of the Landwehr in 
the year 1814, with his immense blue overcoat, his 
peruke tied in the rat’s-tail fashion, his long arms and 
longer legs, his fiat back and pointed nose, was using 
the most extraordinary gestures^ to describe how in the 
campaign of France he had narrowly escaped being 
killed in a certain village in Alsace, where he lay as 
if dead, while two peasants were pulling off his boots. 
Pe shut his lips tight, opened his eyes wide, and 


Friend Fritz, 


35 


shouted at the top of his voice, opening his hands as 
if he had been still in the same critical position, “ I 
never budged ! I thought to myself, ‘ If you budge 
they will think nothing of sticking their pitchforks 
through your back !’ ” 

> He was relating this incident to fat Mr. Haan, the 
tax-collector, who made a pretence of listening to him ; 
whilst with huge, round paunch, purple face, and loos- 
ened necktie, his gi’eat eyes brimming with soft tears, 
he was laughing at the thoughts of the approaching 
shooting season. From time to time he raised himself 
up as if to say something, but sank back again gently 
into his chair, his fat hand, covered with rings, rest- 
ing on the table beside his glass. 

Joseph looked grave and thoughtful, and his bronz- 
ed features were expressive of inward contemplation. 
He had thrown back his long woolly locks from his 
temples and his dark eyes seemed to lose themselves 
in the azure sky, which was visible through the upper 
panes of lofty windows. 

Kobus himself was laughing so heartily whilst listen- 
ing to the great Frederick, that his broad nose seemed 
to spread itself over half his face, but he muttered 
no sound, although his face was absolutely distorted 
with mirth, and looked like the comic mask of tho 
ancient drama. 

“ Come, boys, another glass ! ” exclaimed he. “ The 
bottle is still half-full.” 

And all drank, the bottle passing rapidly from hand 
{d) hand. 

Jt was at this moment that old David Sichel enter 


36 


Friend Fritz. 


ed, and you can imagine the enthusiastic cries with 
which he was welcomed. 

“Here’s David ! Hallo, David ! Welcome ! You’ve 
come in good time.” 

The old rabbi, throwing a sardonic glance over the 
half-eaten tarts, the broken pates, and the empty 
bottles, at once understood the pitch to which the feast 
had arrived, and smiled in his beard. 

“ Ha ! David, it was time ! ” cried Kobus, in high 
glee ; “ in ten minutes more I should have sent the 
gendarmes to fetch you. We have been expecting 
you this half-hour.” 

“Yes, you seem to have been mourning over my 
absence,” said the old rabbi in a sarcastic tone. 

“ It only wanted that,” said Kobus, making room 
for him. “ Here, take a chair, old boy, and sit you 
down. What a pity you can’t taste this pate ; it is 
delicious ! ” 

“ Yes,” cried the tall Frederick ; “ but it is treife 
(forbidden) ; he daren’t do it. The hams, the forced 
meat, and the sausages, were all made for us hea- 
thens.” 

“ And the indigestions also,” added David, laugh- 
ing quietly. “ How often has your father, Johann 
Schoultz, told me the same thing? It’s a family joke, 
which has come down from father to son, like the rat- 
tailed perukes and the velvet breeches with knee- 
buckles. But nevertheless, if your father had loved 
the hams, the forced-meat balls, and the sausages less, 
he would be still as fresh and hale as I am. But you, 
scolfers as you are, won’t hear reason, and one after 


Friend Britz, 37 

anotlier of you allow yourself to be caught like rata 
in a rat-trap, from your love of bacon.” 

‘‘ Listen to the old posche-Israel pretending to be 
afraid of indigestion ! ” cried Kobus, “ as if it wasn’t 
the law of Moses that forbids him.” 

“ Hold your peace,” interrupted David, with a 
nasal twang ; “I say that for those who would not 
comprehend better reasons, but it ought to suffice you ; 
it is quite good enough for a sergeant of Landwehr 
who allows himself to be drawn by the boots out of a 
gutter in Alsace. Indigestion is at least as dangerous 
as a prod with a pitchfork.” 

A perfect roar of laughter burst forth on all sides, 
and the tall Frederick, raising his finger threatening- 
ly, said — 

‘‘ David, I will pay you for that by-and-by ! ” 

But he could think of nothing by way of reply, 
and the old rabbi joined heartily in the general laugh- 
ter. 

Just then the strapping Freutzel, from the tavern of 
the Boeuf Bouge, having already cleared the table, 
made her appearance from the kitchen cariying a tray 
with cups and saucers, and Kate! followed with a sal- 
ver containing the coffee-pot and ^.he liqueurs. 

The old rabbi took his place between Kobus and 
Joseph. Frederick Schoultz gravely pulled a huge 
Ulm pipe from the pocket of his overcoat, while Fritz 
produced a box of cigars from the cupboard. 

Katel had just left the room, and the door still 
stood open, when a little fresh gay voice was heard 
♦xclaiming in the kitchen — 


38 


Friend Frizz. 


“ Ah ! good-day, Mademoiselle Katel. Good gra 
cious ! what a grand dinner you are having ! — all th6 
town is talking of it.” 

“ Hush ! ” said the old servant. 

And the door was shut. 

Instantly every ear was on the stretch in the dining- 
room, and fat collector Haan said — 

“ Hallo ! what a sweet voice ! Did you hear ? Why, 
Kobus, where did you get such a nightingale ? ” 

‘‘ Katel ! Katel ! ” cried Kobus, turning round in 
great surprise. 

The kitchen-door opened again. 

“ Has any thing been forgotten, sir ? ” asked Katel. 

“ Ko, but who is that outside there ? ” 

“ It’s little Suzel, you know, the daughter of Chris- 
tel, your farm manager at Meisenthal. She has brought 
a basket of eggs and fresh butter.” 

“Ah! so it’s little Suzel. Well, let her come in. 
It is more than five months since I saw her.” 

Katel returned to the kitchen. 

“ Suzel, the master wishes you to go in.” 

“ But good gracious. Mademoiselle Katel, I’m not 
dressed ! ” 

Suzel ! ” shouted Kobus, “ come here at once.” 

And forthwith a pretty young girl, about sixteen 
or seventeen, as fresh as a rosebud, with rosy cheeks 
and fair cmnplexion, blue eyes, a little straight nose 
with delicately-cut nostrils, pouting red lips, and 
dressed in a little white woollen petticoat and blue 
linen jacket, made her appearance at the door, hang- 
ing down her head and overwhelmed with coDfusio 4 


Fi'ieivi Fritz. 


39 


All the guests gazed at her ’vith looks of admira- 
tion, and Kobus seemed quite surprised at her appear- 
ance. 

“ Why, how you are grown, Suzel ! ” said ho. Bui 
come in ; don’t be afraid — we won’t eat you.” 

‘‘ Oh, 1 know that quite well,” said the little thing ; 
“ it’s because I’m not dressed.” 

“ Dressed ! ” exclaimed Haan ; why you are a per- 
fect beauty, my lass, as you are.” 

Hush, Haan ! ” said Kobus, turning round and 
shaking his head at the collector, “ don’t you see she 
is a child — a mere child ? Come here, Suzel, and take 
a cup of coffee with us. Katel, bring a cup for the 
little one.” 

Oh, Mr. Kobus, T dare never venture to do that.” 

‘‘ Tut, tut, nonsense ! Make haste, Katel.” 

When the old servant returned with the cup, Suzel, 
who was blushing to the ears, was seated on the ex- 
treme edge of her chair, between Kobus and the old 
rabbi. 

“ Well, what are they doing at the farm, Suzel ? Is 
father Christel quite well ? ” 

“ Yes, yes, sir, thanks to God ! ” replied the little 
one ; “ he is quite well ; he desired me to give his 
respects to you, and mother also.” 

“That’s right; I am much obliged to them. You 
have had a good deal of snow this year ? ” 

“ Two feet all over the farm for three months ; it 
took only eight days to melt it.” 

“ Then the seed was well covered ? ” 

“ Yes, Mr, Kobus ; and everything is shooting uj> 


40 


Friend Fritz. 


nicelj. The ground is covered already so as to hide 
the furrows/’ 

“ That’s good. But drink your coffee, Suzel ; per- 
haps you don’t like coffee ? What would you say to 
a glass of wine ? ” 

“ Oh, no. I like coffee very much, Mr. Kobus.” 

The old rabbi meanwhile gazed at the little thing 
with a tender and fatherly expression, and insisted on 
sweetening her coffee himself, saying — 

‘‘ There, now, that’s a good little girl — a very good 
little girl — ^but a little too fearful. Come, Suzel, take 
a sip of your coffee; it will give you courage.” 

“ Thank you, Mr. David,” replied the little thing in 
a low voice. 

And the old rabbi leaned back highly pleased, and 
watched her tenderly as she put the coffee to her rosy 
lips. 

All present looked at the lovely, gentle, timid young 
creature with real pleasure. Joseph himself smiled as 
he gazed. There was about her a sort of perfume of 
the green fields, an aroma of the coming spring and 
the breezy air — something smiling and gentle like the 
twittering of the swallow. Whilst looking at her you 
could fancy yourself in the open country, at the old 
farm, after the melting of the winter snows. 

So everything is getting green out yonder ? ” re- 
sumed Fritz. ‘‘ Have you begun to do anything in the 
garden ? ” 

“ Yes, Mr. Kobus ; the ground is a little soft as yet, 
but since the last eight days of sunshine everything is 
making great progress. In a fortnight we shall have 


Friend Fritz. 


41 


early radishes. Ah ! father would so like to see you. 
We are thinkiL.^ the time long till you come ; we have 
been looking for you every day ; father has so much to 
tell you about. Blanchette calved last week, and the 
calf is thriving finely ; it is a white heifer calf.” 

“ Oh ! a white heifer calf ! So much the better.” 

“ Yes ; the white give most milk, and they are pret- 
tier, too.” 

Then there was a short silence. Kobus, seeing that 
the little thing had drunk her cofiee, and that she was 
still much embarrassed, said to her — 

Well, my child, I am very glad to have seen you ; 
but, as you seem not to be at your ease with us, go and 
see Katel, who is waiting for you. Bemember and tell 
her she is to put a good large piece of pie in your bas- 
ket, and a bottle of good wine for father Christel.” 

Thank you, Mr. Kobus,” said the little thing, ris- 
ing quickly, and dropping a graceful little curtsey as 
she prepared to leave the room. 

“ Don’t forget to tell them out yonder that I shall 
be with them in a fortnight at farthest,” cried Fritz 
after her as she was moving away. 

“ No, sir, I shall not forget anything ; they will be 
so glad,” and she made her escape like a bird from its 
cage. 

No sooner had she disappeared than old David, 
whose eyes were sparkling with pleasure, exclaimed — 

“ That’s whai I call a very pretty little girl, and one 
that will make a v'ery nice little wife one of these days, 
I hope.” 

“ A nice little wife ! I was sure of it ! ” cried 


42 


Friend Fritz. 


Kobus, bursting into a laugh. The old posche 
Israel can’t see a young man or woman without 
thinking of getting them married olf-hand. Ha ! 
ha! ha!” 

‘‘ Well, yes,” cried the old rabbi, his beard bristling 
witli anger, “ yes, I say so, and I repeat it : a nice 
little wife ! What harm is there in that ? In a year 
or so Suzel may be married, and I hope with a rosy 
little chick or two running at her heels.” 

“ Oh, nonsense, old fellow, you are doting.” 

‘‘ I doting ! It is you who are doting, epicurus — 
in other matters you are sensible enough to all appear- 
ance, but on the chapter of marriage you are a regular 
madman.” 

“ Oh, so it is I who am the madman, and David 
Sichel the sage ! What sort of mania possesses the 
man to have the whole world married ? ” 

‘‘Is it not the natural destiny of both man and 
woman ? Did not God say at the beginning, ‘ Increase 
and multiply, and replenish the earth ? ’ Is it not the 
3xtreme of folly to attempt to set yourself against the 
decrees of God, to attempt to live ” 

But here Fritz burst into such a roar of laughter 
that the old rabbi grew pale with indignation. 

“ You laugh,” said he, endeavoring to contain him- 
self ; it is very easy to laugh. But if you were to 
go on with your Ha ! ha ! ha’s ! and your Ho ! ho ! 
ho’s ! to the end of time, what would that prove, 1 
should like to know ? If I could only get you once 
to argue the question with me, how I should floor you 1 
But you only laugh; you open your big mouth with 


Jbriend 




your Ha ! ha ! ha ! You flatten your broad nose till 
it covers the half of your face, like a splatch of oil 
spilt in it, and then you think you have conquered me. 
But that’s not the way to go to work, Kobus — that’a 
not arguing.” 

Whilst speaking, the old rabbi made such comical 
gestures and imitated Kobus’s manner of laughing 
with such grotesque grimaces, that the whole room 
could not contain themselves, and Fritz had to hold his 
sides with laughing. 

“No, that’s not the way to act,” pursued David, 
with singular vivacity. “ You never think — you never 
reflected in your life.” 

“ Why, I do nothing else,” said Kobus, wiping his 
broad cheeks, over which the tears were running ; “ if 
I laugh it is at your droll ideas. I’m not such a fool 
as you take me for. For the last fifteen years I have 
lived quietly with my old Katel, and have had every- 
thing arranged entirely to suit my comfort and con- 
venience. When T want to walk, I walk ; when I 
want to sit down and take a nap, I sit down and take 
a nap ; when I wish for a glass of beer, I take one ; 
if the fancy seizes me to ask three or four friends for 
dinner, I ask them. And you want me to change all 
this ! You want to saddle me with a wife, who would 
turn the whole house upside down ! Really, David, 
that’s too much ! ” 

“ Then you think, Kobus, that everything will go on 
this way for ever ? Undeceive yourself, my lad ; age 
will creep on you, and at the rate you are going I fore- 
see that your great toe will soon give you warning 


Friend Fritz. 


44 

that the game has lasted too long. Then you wil 
wish heartily you had a wife ! ” 

‘‘ I shall have Katel.” 

‘‘ Your old Katel has had her time, like myself. 
You will be forced to get another servant, who will 
starve you, and rob you, Kobus, when you are 
chained to your arm-chair and groaning with a fit 
of gout.” 

“ Stulff ! ” interrupted Fritz ; ‘‘ if such a thing 
should happen, it will be time enough to think of it 
when it comes. In the meantime I am happy, per- 
fectly happy. But were I married, even suppose, 
which is a great chance, that I was lucky enough to 
get an excellent wife, a good manager, and so forth, 
you know well enough, David, that I should have to 
go out walking or driving with her here and there ; I 
should have to take her to the ball at the burgomaster’s 
or the sub-prefect’s ; I should have to change all my 
habits ; I could never again lounge about with my 
necktie unfastened, or my hat over my ear, or on the 
back of my neck : I must give up my pipe. It would 
be the abomination of desolation — I tremble at the 
very thought of it. You see that I can reason about 
my little affairs as well as an old rabbi that preaches 
in a synagogue. The main point is to be happy.” 

‘‘ 5rour reasoning is bad, Kobus.” 

“ How ! My reasoning bad ? Is not the first aim 
of all of us to be happy ? ” 

“ No ; it is not our first aim, otherwise we should all 
be happy, and wouldn’t see so many unhappy wretches 
everywhere. God would have given us the means o/ 


Friend Fritz. 


45 


being so ; He had only to say the word. For instance, 
Kobus, He wishes the birds to fly, and He gives them 
wings to do so ; He wishes the fish to swim, and pro- 
vides them with fins for that purpose ; He wishes the 
fruit-trees to bring forth fruit in their season, and they 
bear fruit. Every being has the means of fulfilling its 
destiny, and since man has not the means of being 
happy, in your sense of the word — for at this moment 
ihere is perhaps not one man perfectly happy in the 
earth, with the certainty of his continuing happy — it 
is evident that God did not wish him to be so.” 

“ And Vhat does God wish, then, David ? ” 

‘‘ He wishes us to be really happy, and to be so we 
must first deserve it. That makes a great difference, 
Kobus, for to deserve happiness either in this world or 
the next we must begin by performing the duties in- 
cumbent on us, and one of the chief of these duties is 
to create a family, to have a wife and children, to bring 
up your otispring in the fear and love of God, and to 
hand down to others the precious deposit of life which 
has been confided to you.” 

“ He has some extraordinary ideas, too, that old 
rabbi,” remarked Frederick Schoultz, filling his glass 
with kirchenwasser ; ‘‘ one would think he believed 
what he said.” 

“ My ideas are not extraordinary,” replied David 
gravely ; ‘‘ they are just and true. If your father, the 
baker, had reasoned like you, if he had determined to 
get rid of all trouble, and to lead a useless life, and 
if Kobus’s father, Zacharias, had had the same views, 
you would not be there sitting round that table with 


46 


Friend Fritz. 


your red noses and round paunches, gormandizing on 
the fruits of their labors. You may laugh at th(5 old 
rabbi, but at least he has the satisfaction of telling you 
what he thinks. These old worthies had their joke, too, 
at times, but in serious matters they reasoned seriously, 
and I tell you they knew more about real happiness 
than you do. Do you remember your old father 
Zacharias, Kobus — so grave and dignified on the 
bench ? Do you remember him coming home between 
eleven and twelve o’clock in the day, his box of papers 
under his arm, and when he saw you at a distance 
playing about the door how his expression changed, 
and how his face lighted up, as if a ray of sunlight 
had fallen on it ? And when, in this very room, he 
used to jump you on his knee, while you prattled all 
sorts of childish nonsense as you generally did, how 
happy the dear old man was ? Go, now, and choose 
the best bottle of wine in your cellar, place it before 
you, and see if your laugh be as bright and happy as 
his — if your heart is as light, if your eyes sparkle like 
his, as he sang the air of ‘ Three Hussars’ to please 
you.” 

“ David ! ” exclaimed Fritz, quite softened, ‘‘ let us 
speak of something else.” 

“ Ho; all your bachelor pleasures, all your old wine 
which you keep for your boon companions, all your 
quips and jokes, all are as nothing, and worse than 
nothing, compared with the joys of the family hearth. 
It is there that you are really happy, because you love 
and are loved ; it is there that you learn to praise 
God for all His goodness towards you. But you 


Friend Fritz. 


47 


don’t understand these tilings. 1 speak to you the 
words of truth and soberness, and you refuse to listen 
10 me.” 

As he spoke thus the old rabbi seemed deeply moved. 
Fat Collector Haan stared at him with wide-opened 
eyes, and J oseph from time to time murmured some 
confused words. 

“ What do you think of that, Joseph ? ” said Kobus 
at last to the Bohemian. 

“ I think as the rabbi David does,” said he ; ‘‘ but I 
don’t mean to marry, for I love the free air of heaven, 
and my little ones might die in the high road.” 

Fritz appeared as if sunk in thought. 

‘‘Yes, he doesn’t speak bad for an old posche- 
Isrojel^’' said he, laughing ; “ but I hold to my opin- 
ion. I am a bachelor, and I will remain a bachelor.” 

“ You ! ” cried David. “ Well, listen to this, 
Kobus ; I have never set up to be a prophet, but 
this day I venture to prophesy that you will live to 
be married ! ” 

“ I’ll wager you anything I am not.” 

“ I won’t wager, Kobus ; you would lose.” 

“ Well, no matter. I bet you my bit of vineyard at 
Sennenberg — that little corner, you remember, that 
produces such good white wine, my best wine, as you 
know, rabbi. Well, I’ll wager it ” 

“ Against what? ” 

“ Against anything you like.” 

“ Well, I accept your wager,” said David. “ The 
present company are witnesses that I accept. I shall 
drink right good wine that will cost me nothing, 


48 


Frieiid Fritz. 


and my two boys will drink it after me — he ! he I 
he!” 

‘‘ Make your mind easy, David,” said XobuB, 
rising. “ That wine will never go to your head.” 

“ Very good, very good ; I accept the wager ; here 
is my hand, Fritz.” 

‘‘ And here is mine, rabbi.” 

Kobus then, turning round to the company, asked 
— “ Shall we adjourn to the Stag for a little refresh- 
ment ? ” 

‘‘ Yes, let’s go to the Stag,” cried all present. 
“ That will finish the evening nicely. But Donner 
and Blitzen ! what a dinner we have had ! ” 

All rose and got their hats ; the fat Collector Haan 
and the tall Frederick Schoultz marched first, Kobus 
and Joseph next, and old David Sichel, in higli 
spirits, brought up the rear. They proceeded arm in 
arm along the Bue des Capucines, and entered the 
hostelry of the Great Stag opposite the old market 
house. 


CHAPTER V. 


The following morning, about nine o’clock, Friti 
Kobus,. seated on the side of his bed, was slowly 
pulling on his boots with a melancholy air, moraliz- 
ing meanwhile as follows : 

“We drank too much beer yesterday evening,” 
said he, scratching himself behind the ear ; “ it is a 
drink most pernicious to health. I would have done 
much better to take a bottle or two more wine, and 
a pot or two less beer.” 

Then, raising his voice — 

“ Katel ! Katel ! ” shouted he. 

The old servant appeared at the door, and, seeing 
him yawning, with red eyes and dishevelled hair, 
could not help smiling. 

“ Why, Mr. Kobus,” said she, “ what is the mat- 
ter with you this morning ? ” 

“ It was that beer that I drank. If any one ever 
catches me again ” 

“ Oh, you always say the same thing,” replied the 
old woman with a laugh. 

“ What can you give me to bring me round a 
little ? ” 

“ Would you like some tea ? ” 

“ Tea 1 Could you not make me a little good onion- 
goup ? and then, stay ” 

3 


50 


Friend Fritz. 


“ A calf’s head with vinegar ? ” 

“ Yes ; that’s just it — a calfs head with vinegar 
What a stupid idea it was to take so much beer I 
However, since the things’s over, let’s say no more 
about it. Make haste, Katel, I shall be down im- 
mediately.” 

Katel returned to the kitchen laughing, and in 
about a quarter of an hour Kobus managed to finish 
his washing, and dressing, and combing. He could 
scarcely move his arms or legs. Then he put on his 
dressing-gown ^and entered the dining-room, where a 
basin of good onion-soup awaited him, which did 
him a world of good. After that he ate his calf’s 
head a la vinaigrette, and took a good pull of forst- 
heimer to wash it down, which brought back his 
courage a little. Notwithstanding, he felt his head 
still rather heavy, and sat gazing at the bright sun- 
light streaming through the windows. 

What a pernicious drink that beer is ! ” said he. 
‘‘ Gambrinus should have got his neck wrung for ever 
thinking of boiling malt and hops together. It is a 
thing contrary to nature to mix sweet with bitter ; 
men are fools to drink such poison. But, after all, 
it’s the smoking that is in fault. If we could give up 
the pipe, we shouldn’t care a straw for the beer. 
However, so it is. Katel ! ” 

‘‘ What is it, sir ? ” 

‘‘ I am going o it. I must get a breath of the fresh 
air. I shall be the better of a good walk.” 

“ But you will be back again at noon ? ” 

“ Yes ; I think so. At all events, if I am not back 


Friend Fritz. 


51 


by one you may clear the table, as in that case 1 
shall have gone round by some of the neighboring 
villages.” 

So saying Fritz put on his broad-brimmed felt hat, 
took his ivory-headed walking-cane from beside the 
fireplace and descended tl e stairs to the hall. 

Katel cleared away the tablecloth, laughing, and 
said to herself — 

‘‘ To-morrow his first visit after dinner will be to 
the Stag. That’s the way with men ; they will never 
correct their faults.” 

Once outside, Kobus took his way gi'avely up the 
Kue de Hildebrandt. The weather was magnificent ; 
every window was open to the spring breeze. 

“ Good day, Mr. Kobus ; here is the fine weather 
back again,” cried the goodwives as he passed. 

“ Yes, Berbel ; yes Catherine ; this looks promis- 
ing,” replied he. 

The children were dancing, jumping, and shouting 
before all the doors. You could not imagine a hap- 
pier scene. , 

Fritz, after leaving the town by the old Ililde- 
brandt gate, where the women were already spreading 
their linen and their red gowns in the sun along the 
ancient ramparts, mounted the slope of the advanced 
works. The last snows of winter were melting in the 
shade of the covered ways, and all around the town, 
as far as the eye could reach, nothing was to be seen 
but the tender green of the young buds on the hedges, 
the fruit-trees, and the rows of poplars along the 
banks of the Lauter. Far away in the distance tha 


62 


Friend Fritz. 


blue movintain range of the Yosges still held some 
white patches of snow, so small as to be scarcely per- 
ceptible ; and beyond stretched the boundless sky, in 
which floated a few light fleecy clouds lost in the im- 
mensity of space. 

Kobus, beholding this sight, felt quite cheerful and 
happy, and, directing his gaze to a point in the dis- 
tance, he thought — 

“ If I were once by the brooms on the hill yonder I 
should be within less than half a league of my farm 
at Meisenthal ; I could have a chat with old Christel 
about farm matters, and take a look at the crops and 
the white heifer that Suzel told us of yesterday after- 
noon.” 

Whilst he stood thinking thus a band of woodcut- 
ters passed along the crest of the opposite hill, direct- 
ing their steps towards the great beech forest. 

Fritz, shading his eyes with his hand, watched them 
until they had disappeared in the valley beyond, and 
then, all at once, he resolved to go to Meisenthal. 

Just at this moment the old gardener, Bosser, hap- 
pened to pass through the advance works with his hoe 
on his shoulder. 

‘‘ Hallo ! father Bosser,” he shouted. 

The old man looked up. 

“ Will you do me the kindness, as I see you are re- 
turning to the town, to tell Katel that I am going to 
Meisenthal, and that I shan’t be back before six or 
seven o’clock ? ” 

“ Certainly, Mr. Kobus ; I shall do so with pleas 
ure.” 


Friend Fritz. 


53 


“ You will oblige me very much.” 

Bosser proceeded on his way ; and Fritz took the 
path by the left which leads down into the valley of 
Ablettes behind the Vostthal, and up the face of the 
Broom Hill on the opposite side. The path was now 
dry ; but thousands of little rills of snow-water were 
crossing and mingling in the great meadow of the 
Gresselthal below, and sparkling in the sun like veins 
of silver. 

In climbing the slope of the opposite hill Fritz per- 
ceived two or three couples of turtle-doves fluttering 
in pairs along the face of the grey clifis of La Houpe, 
and billing and cooing on the rocky ledges, with their 
tails expanded in a fan shape. It was a real pleasure 
to see them gliding noiselessly though the air. They 
seemed as if they had no need of wings, but were 
borne along by love. They never quitted each other 
for a moment ; but kept turning and wheeling, now in 
the shadow of the clifis, and then emerging into the 
bright sunshine, like bouquets of brilliant flowers 
fluttering down from the sky. One must have been 
totally without heart or feeling not to love the pretty 
creatures. Fritz, leaning his back against his cane, 
observed them for a long time. He had never seen 
them billing and cooing in the same way before, for 
the wood-doves are very wild. At last they spied him 
and flew, oflT, and Fritz resumed his walk, quite in a 
pensive mood, and about eleven o’clock had reached 
the top of Broom Hill. 

From thence Hunebourg^ with its old winding 
streets, its church, its fountain dedicated to Sairt Ar 


64 


Friend Fritz, 


bogast, its cavalry 'barracks, and its three old moul 
dering gates covered with moss and ivy, seemed as ii 
painted in blue on the crest of the opposite hill. The 
sun’s rays were reflected dazzlingly from the little attic 
windo^s^s and the skylights in the roofs. The cavalry 
trumpets sounding for parade fell on the ear like the 
hum of a wasp. Through the Hildebrandt gate issued 
what looked like a file of ants ; Kobus remembered 
that the midwife, Lehnel, had died the previous even- 
ing, and felt sure this must be her funeral. 

After taking a survey of these things he proceeded 
along the level summit of the hill at a quick pace. A t 
length the sandy path began to descend, when all at 
once the broad grey-tiled roof of the farmhouse, with 
the two other lesser roofs of the barn and dovecot, 
came into view, with the valley of the Meisenthal be- 
low him, which lay nestled at the foot of the hill. 

It was an old farmhouse, built in the antique style 
with a large square yard inclosed with a large drystone 
wall ; the fountain in the middle of the yard, the 
watering-dam in front of the moss-grown trough, the 
stable and cowhouses on the right, the barn and dove- 
cot, each surmounted with a pointed roof and belfry, 
on the left, the dwelling-house in the centre. Behind 
were the brewhouse, the laundry, the presser, the fowl- 
house, and the pigstyes — all at least a hundred and 
fifty years old, having been built by his grandfather 
Nichclas Kobus. The farm itself was of v(;ry consid- 
erable value, containing, as it did, ten arpents of nat. 
ural n.(-*dow, twenty-five of arable land, a large or- 
chard lich covered the greater portion of the hill 


Friend Fritz. 


55 


slope, and, in a sunny nook, an acre of vines in full 
bearirg, the whole producing a handsome revenue. 

Whilst descending the zigzag path which led into 
the valley, Fritz could see the little Suzel washing the 
linen at the fountain, the pigeons wheeling and flutter- 
ing in flocks of ten or twelve about the dovecot, and 
father Christel himself, whip in hand, driving the cattle 
back from the watering-place. 

These country sights filled him with a sort of quiet 
pleasure ; he listened with delight to the barking of 
the housedog Mopsel, the measured blows of the battoir 
echoing through the silent valley, and the bellowing of 
the oxen as it died away in the beech forest on the 
opposite hill, where a few yellow patches of snow still 
lingered at the foot of the trees. 

But what gave him most pleasure was the little Su- 
zel stooping over the wash-board, soaping the linen, and 
beating and turning it with a deft movement of her 
arm, like a good little housewife as she was. Each 
time she raised her battoir^ all glistening with the 
snowy suds, the sunlight glancing on it sent a brilliant 
flash to the very top of the hill. 

Happening to cast a look toward the lower end of 
the valley, where the Lauter winds amidst the mead- 
ows, Fritz saw, perched on the summit of an old oak, 
a buzzard watching the pigeons wheeling around the 
far m b\iildings. He levelled his cane at him, and forth- 
with the bird flew off, sending a shrill scream througli 
the valley, whilst at this war-cry all the pigeons sud- 
denly collapsed like a fan around the dovecot. 

Then Ko bus, laughing inwardly, proceeded down the 


66 


Friend Fritz. 


path at a quick trot, until suddenly he heaid a little 
clear voice exclaiming — 

“Mr. Kobus ! — here is Mr. Kobus! ” 

It was Suzel who had just caught sight of him, and 
was rushing off to the barn xo call her father. 

He had scarcely reached the high road which skirted 
the foot of the hill, when the old Anabaptist farmer, 
with his large grey whiskers meeting under his chin, 
his horsehair hat, and his waistcoat of grey woollen 
cloth, ornamented with brass buttons, came forward to 
meet him with smiling face, and cried out in a cheery 
voice — 

“ You are welcome, Mr. Kobus, you are welcome ! 
This is a joyful sight for us to-day. We didn’t hope 
to see you so soon. Heaven be praised for deciding 
you to come to-day.” 

“ Yes, Christel, here I am,” said Fritz, giving the 
good man a hearty shake of the hand ; “ the fancy 
seized me all at once, and so off I came — ha ! ha ! ha ! 
I am right glad to see you looking so well, father 
Christel.” 

“Yes, Heaven has preserved us in health, Mr. 
Kobus; it is the greatest blessing we could ask for. 
May His name be praised ! But, see, here is my wife 
coming ; the little one went to tell her.” 

And the -goodwife Orchel, tall and stout, with her 
cap of black taffeta, her white apron, and her great 
round arms only half covered by the sleeves of her 
chemise, was seen hastening towards them, the little 
Suzel following. 

“ Why, good gracious ! is it you, Mr Kobus ? 


Friend Fritz. 


57 


^aid the good woman, smiling with all her might, 

and so early, too. "VVhat a pleasant surprise you 
have given us ! ” 

‘‘ Yes, mother Orchel ; and I am so pleased with 
everything I see here. I was looking at the orchards 
as I came along, and they are getting on finely. I 
caught a glimpse of the cattle, too, just now returning 
from watering, and they seem in right good condi- 
tion.” 

“ Yes, everything goes on well,” said the stout 
farmer’s wife. 

One could see that she would have liked to kiss 
Kobus, and the little Suzel, too, appeared very 
happy. 

Two farm laborers, who were driving a team of oxen 
harnessed to the plough, now met them, and raised 
their caps, crying — 

‘‘ Good day, Mr. Kobus ! ” 

‘‘Good day, Johann; good day, Kasper,” said he, 
quite joyous. 

By this time they had reached the old farmhouse, the 
front of which was covered with lattice- work, and ovei 
this were trained five or six great gnarled vines, in 
which the first buds were just beginning to appear. 
To the right, by the low, round -topped entrance-door, 
was a stone bench, and farther along, under the pro- 
jecting roof of the cart-shed, which was continued 
downwards till it reached within twelve feet of the 
ground, were huddled together pell-mell a confused 
mass of waggons, ploughs, straw-cutters, wood-saws, 
and ladders. Leaning against the door of the barn was 
3 * 


58 


Friend Fritz. 


a large lishing-net and pole, and between the beanu 
overhead were tied large trusses of straw in which 
whole flocks of sparrows had taken up their residence. 
The dog Mopsel, a little shepherd’s colley, with iron- 
grey hair, grizzly moustache, and long, sweeping tail, 
came forward to rub himself against Fritz’s legs, who 
stooped down to pat him on the head. 

And so thus, amidst bursts of laughter and jokes, 
and the general gaiety which every one seemed to feel 
at the arrival of the kind-hearted Kobus, they all 
entered the hall, and from that into the common 
living-room of the farm, a large whitewashed apart- 
ment, about eight or nine feet high, the ceiling sup- 
ported by dark browm beams. Three of the windows, 
with small octagonal panes, looked into the farmyard, 
and another smaller one in the rear commanded a view 
of the hill. Underneath the windows extended a long 
table of beech wood, the legs in the form of an X, with 
a bench on each side. Behind the door on the left was 
the metal stove of a pyramid shape, and on the table 
were arranged five or six goblets and a pitcher of grey- 
stone ware, with blue flowers. A few old pictures of 
saints, colored bright red, in black frames, completed 
the furniture of the apartment. 

“ Mr. Kobus,” said Ohristel, “ you will dine here 
to-day, will you not, sir ? ” 

“ Of course I will.” 

‘‘ That’s right. You know, Orchel, what Mr. Kobug 
likes ? ” 

“ Yes, never fear. We set the dough this verj 
morning.” 


Friend Fritz. 


59 


‘‘ Then I suppose we had better sit down for a little. 
A.r e you tired, Mr. Kobus ? Would you like to charge 
your shoes and put on my sabots ?” 

“You are joking, Christel ; I got over the two 
short leagues between this and Hunebourg almost 
without knowing it.” 

“ Come, that’s so much the better. But you haven’t 
said a word to Mr. Kobus, Suzel.” 

“ What would you wish me to say to him ? He sees 
very well that I am here, and that we are all most 
pleased to have him with us.” 

“ She is right, father Christel. We had a good long 
chat together yesterday evening. She told me every- 
thing that was going on here. I am very much 
pleased with her. She is a good little girl. But as I 
am here on the spot, and as it will be some time before 
mother Orchel has the noudels ready, I would suggest 
that we take a walk about the place and have a look at 
the crops, the orchards, and the garden. It is so long 
since I have been out that the little stretch I have had 
has only taken the stiffness out of my legs.” 

“ With pleasure, Mr. Kobus. Suzel, you can help 
your mother ; we shall be back in an hour.” 

Fritz and Christel left the room together, and, as 
they took their way towards the yard, Fritz in pass- 
ing saw the bright fire blazing on the kitchen hearth 
Mother Christel was already kneading the dough on 
the bakeboard. 

“In an hour, Mr. Kobus,” cried she. 

“ Yes, mother Orchel, yes ; in an hour.” 

And they left the house. 


60 


Friend Fritz. 


“We have pressed a good deal of fruit this winter,” 
said Christel ; “ it will give us at least ten barrels of 
3ider and twenty of perry. They’re more cooling by 
far in harvest than wine.” 

“ And much wholesomer than beer,” added Kobus ; 
“ you never require to strengthen it, or to dilute it 
with water ; it is a natural beverage.” 

They were just then passing the brewhouse. Fritz 
peeped in through the grated window. 

“And what about the potatoes, Christel ; have you 
distilled any of them ? ” 

“ No, sir ; you know that last year there was a bad 
crop ; we must wait for a good yield before it will be 
worth the trouble.” 

“ You are quite right. But stay ; it seems to me 
you have more fowls than you had last year, and 
handsomer ones too ? ” 

“ Oh ! these are the cochin-chinas, Mr. Kobus. We 
have had a good many of them hereabouts for the last 
year or two. I saw them first at Daniel Stenger’s 
farm at Sauterbach, and made up my mind to get 
some. They are a magnificent breed of fowls, the 
cochin-chinas, but it remains to be seen if they are 
good layers.” 

They had now reached the gate of the farmyard, 
where a large flock of fowls, great and small, topknots 
and bantams, with a superb cock, with red eyes, in the 
middle, stood in the shade, spying, listening, and plum- 
ing themselves with their bills. Amongst them were 
also a number of ducks. 

“ Suzel ! Suzel ! ” cried the farmer. 


Friend Fritz. 


61 


The little thing instantly came running for’w ard. 

“ Open this door and let the fowls out to get the air ; 
the ducks too will be the better of a swim. It will 
be time enough to shut them up when the crops aie 
further forward, and when they would scratch up 
e\ erything that was sown in the garden.” 

Suzel hastened to obey, and Christel proceeded 
down the meadow towards the river, Fritz following 
him. About a hundred paces from the river brink, 
where the soil began to grow moist, the Anabaptist 
stopped and said — 

See here, Mr. Kobus, for the last ten years this 
slope has produced nothing but osiers and rushes ; 
there was scarcely grass enough for a cow ; well, this 
winter we set to work to level it, and now all the sur- 
face water drains into the river. If the sun keeps 
out for a fortnight longer it will be quite dry, and we 
can sow anything we like in it — clover or vetches, or 
what not. I’ll answer for it the feed will be sound 
and good.” 

That’s what I call a famous idea,” said Fritz. 

“Yes, sir ; but I must speak to you about another 
matter ; by-and-by, when we go back to the house, I 
will show you the place I mean, where the river makes 
a bend ; you will understand it better on the spot.” 

They continued their walk thus all over the valley 
till about twelve o’clock. Christel explained to Ko- 
bus his plans. 

“ Here,” said he, “I mean to plant potatoes ; there 
we shall sow grain, and after that clover ; it is a good 
course of cropping to follow.” 


62 


Friend Fritz. 


Fritz understood nothing of the matter, but ht 
looked as if he comprehended all that was said, and 
the old farmer was delighted to have an opportunity 
of talking on the subject which interested him most 
deeply. 

The heat, meanwhile, was becoming every moment 
greater, and by dint of plodding along deep-ploughed 
fields — where every step left a pound or two of mud 
sticking to his shoes — Fritz felt the perspiration run- 
ning down his back. Stopping on the top of the hill 
to recover breath, he was struck for the first time 
with the immense hum of the insects which the heat 
of the day had brought out, and which were sporting 
in the sunshine. 

Listen, Christel,” said he, “ did you ever hear 
such music ? Eh ? It’s quite surprising to see this 
swarming life which springs out of the ground in the 
shape of caterpillars, May-bugs, and flies, and which 
fills the air in a single day. It’s something grand ! ” 

“ Yes, it’s even too grand,” said the Anabaptist. 
“If we had not the good fortune to have the spar- 
rows, the chajfinches, the swallows, and hundreds of 
other little birds, like the goldfinch and tomtit, to 
clear away the vermin, we should be lost, Mr. Kobus ; 
the May-flies, the caterpillars, and the grasshoppers 
would eat up everything. Fortunately the Lord comes 
to our assistance. It should be foroidden by law to 
shoot small birds. I have always forbidden our peo- 
ple to rob the sparrows’ nests about the farmhouse. 
They steal a good deal of grain, it is true, but they 
save far more than they destroy.” 


FHend F'litz. 


63 


‘‘Yes,” replied Fritz, “that’s the way things go on 
in this world ; the insects devour the plants, the 
birds devour the insects, and we devour the birds and 
all the rest. From the beginning it was intended that 
man should eat everything. It’s for this purpose we 
have our thirty-two teeth — some pointed, others cut 
’ing, and others again, which we call double teeth, 
for grinding. All this proves that we are the mon- 
archs of creation. But stay, Christel, what is that?” 

“ That is the great clock of Hunebourg striking 
twelve ; the sound enters the valley yonder, beside 
the wood-pigeons cliff.” 

They now began to descend the hill again, and in 
reaching the bank of the river, near the farmhouse, 
the Anabaptist stopped once more and said — 

“ This is the place, Mr. Kobus, that I was speaking 
to you about just now. Do you see how low the river 
is here ? Every year at the melting of the snow, or 
when we have heavy rains in the summer, it overflows 
its banks, and frequently comes up a hundred yards 
or so over this corner of the field. If you had been 
here last week you would have seen it covered with 
foam, and even still the ground is quite wet. Well, 
I was thinking that if we lowered this corner five or 
six fe-et it would give us, in the first place, two or 
three h\indred loads of good rich earth, which would 
make a capital top-dressing for the meadows on the 
hill, as there is nothing better than to mix clay and 
limestone soils together. Then by building a low, 
strong wall along the river edge, we should have the 
best reservoir you could imagine for holding trout, 


64 


Friend Fritz. 


barbel, tench, and all the different fish found in the 
Lauter. The water would be let in by a close-fitting 
sluice with a grating, and would flow out through a 
similar one at the other end. In this way the fish 
would thrive just as if they were in the open river, 
and you would have nothing to do at any time but to 
cast your net and catch as many as you like. Where- 
as, at present — especially since the clockmaker of 
Hunebourg and his two sons have made a practice of 
fishing in the river the whole of the Lord’s day, and 
take back their fishing baskets full of trout regularly 
every evening — we can’t keep one. What do you 
think of the plan, Mr. Kobus, for I know you like a 
fresh trout now and then for breakfast ? ” 

“ That I call a magnificent idea,” said Fritz, his 
mouth wide open with admiration and surprise. 
“ Christel, you are a man of remarkable good sense. 1 
ought to have thought of this plan of the reservoir 
long ago, for I am very fond indeed of trout. Yes, you 
are quite right. It’s a most capital idea ! We’ll not 
delay a single day in commencing the work, Christel. 
This very evening I will look out in Hunebourg for 
workmen, waggons, and wheelbarrows. I must have 
Lang the architect to look at the place, so that every- 
thing may be done properly. Then when the pond is 
made we shall sow trout, perch, and barbel in it as you 
grow cabbages, radishes, and carrots in a garden.” 

And Fritz gave a great roar of a laugh, whilst the 
old Anabaptist seemed highly pleased to see his plan 
approved of. 

As they were returning to the farmhouse Frita 


Friend Fritz. 


65 


said — I shall take up my quarters with you, Chris* 
tel, for eight or ten days, or perhaps a fortnight, to 
push on and superintend the work. I wish to see 
everything done with my own eyes. We must have 
a good strong wall next the river, well built with 
stone and lime, and deep in the foundations. We 
shall also want a supply of sand and gravel for the 
bottom of the reservoir, for fish accustomed to the 
open river like gravel. Everything must be made 
strong, so as to last.” 

They were now entering the great yard opposite the 
cart-shed. Suzel was standing in the doorway. 

‘‘ Is your mother waiting for us ? ” asked the Ana- 
baptist. 

“Not yet, father, she is only just laying the table.” 

“ Very good ; then we shall have time to see the 
stables.” 

He crossed the yard and opened the window-shutter 
of the cowhouse. Kobus looked in and saw that the 
walls were whitewashed and the fioor paved with small 
stones, with a gently-sloping channel in the middle. 
The oxen and cows were ranged along each side in 
deep shadow. As the meek-looking animals turned 
bheir heads towards the light, father Christel said — 

“ Those two large oxen in front are put up to fatten 
for the last three months. The Jew butcher, Isaac 
Schmoul^, is very keen to have them ; he has been 
here about them two or three times. The other six 
will be enough for us for the labor this year. But 
look at that little black one, sir ; hasn’t he splendid 
shapes ? It’s a great pity we haven’t a match for him, 


66 


Friend Fritz. 


I have been all over the country trying to find on« 
like him. As for the cows they are the same as last 
year. Blanchette is newly-calved, and I am going tc 
let her suckle the calf, which is a white heifer one.” 

‘‘Yery good,” said Kobus, “I see that everything 
is well managed. And now let us go in to dinner, for 
I feel a little peckish.” 


CHAPTER VI. 


The idea of the fish reservoir had taken full posses 
sion of Fritz’s mind. Scarcely was dinner over, to- 
wards one o’clock, when he set out to return to Hune- 
bourg. And the following day he made his appearance 
again with a waggon-load of picks, shovels, and wheel- 
barrows, together with a number of workmen from the 
quarry of the Three Fountains, and the architect Lang, 
who was to prepare the plan of the work. 

They forthwith descended to the river bank and in- 
spected the ground. Lang, with his tape line in his 
hand, took all the measurements, and discussed the 
plan with Father Christel, while Fritz himself drove 
in the pegs. Finally, when all were agreed as to the 
plan of the reservoir and the price to be j^aid, the la- 
borers set to work. 

Lang had that year in hand his great undertaking 
of the stone bridge over the Lauter between Hune- 
bourg and Biewer-Kirch, and could not, of course, 
superintend the works, but Fritz, having installed 
himself in the Anabaptist’s, where he occupied the 
large handsome chamber on the first story, took this 
task on himself. 

The two windows of his room looked out over the 
roof of the cart-shed, so that he did not need even to 
get out of bed to see how' the works were getting on ; 


68 - 


Friend Fritz. 


for from his pillow he could take in at one view the 
river, the orchards on the opposite side, and the hill 
above. It seemed as if it had been made expressly 
for him. 

In the early morning, when the first cock-crow 
echoed through the grey, silent valley, and was faintly 
re-echoed in the far distance from the crags of the 
Bichelberg ; when Mopsel turned himself in his bed, 
after giving a few smothered barks ; when the thrush 
uttered his first clear notes on the topmost boughs of 
the tall trees ; when, after a short interval of silence, 
the leaves began to rustle without any apparent cause, 
as if they too were inspired to utter their welcome to 
the father of light and life ; and when a sort of pale 
light began to creep over the face of the sky, then 
Kobus would awake — for he had heard all these things 
with closed eyelids — and look about him. 

All around was still in deep shadow, but below, in 
the passage, he could hear the heavy step of the farm- 
laborer as he entered the barn and opened the trap- 
door of the hayloft to let down fodder to the cattle 
below. He could distinguish the rattling of chains, 
the smothered lowing of oxen, as if they were still 
half asleep, and the noise of wooden clogs coming and 
going. 

Soon afterwards Mother Orchel was heard going 
down to the kitchen, and, while listening to the good 
woman lighting the fire and making a clatter among 
the saucepans, Fritz drew aside his curtains and saw 
the little grey windows of his room stand out in dark 
relief against the pale sky. ' 


Friend Fritz. 


69 


Here and there a tiny ray of light like a purple 
thread shot upwards from the horizr^n, and showed 
that the sun would make his appearance in ten min- 
utes or a quarter of an hour between the crests of the 
two opposite hills. 

Already the farm was full of noise and bustle. In 
the yard the crowing of cocks, the cackling of hens, 
the barking of dogs, resounded on all sides. In the 
kitchen pots and pans clattered, the fire crackled, doors 
opened and shut. A lantern was seen passing beneath 
the penthouse roof of the great shed. The steps of 
the workmen were heard in the distance coming rap- 
idly along the road from the Bichelberg. 

Then, all at once everything became white. It was 
he — the sun — who had just appeared on the horizon. 
He was there, ruddy and sparkling like gold. Fritz 
watched him climbing between the two hill- tops, and 
thought to himself, “ God is great ! ” 

Then, carrying his eye downward to the river bank, 
and seeing the workmen plying their picks and trot- 
ting along with their wheelbarrows, he said to him- 
self, “ Everything is going on nicely ! ” 

He heard the little Suzel, too, tripping up and down 
the stairs like a partridge, and putting his shoes down 
softly at his door, for fear of waking him. He smiled 
inwardly as he listened to her movements, especially 
when the house-dog, Mopsel, began to bark in the 
yard, and he heard the little thing crying in a 
smothered voice, ‘‘ Hush, sir, hush ! You little mis- 
chief, you will waken Mr. Kobus ! ” 

“ It is astonishing,” thought he, ‘‘ the care that little 


7C 


Friend Fritz. 


thing takes of me. She knows bj- instinct everything 
that gives me pleasure. When, after eating damfnou- 
dels for a week I ended by getting tired of them, and 
would like eggs boiled in the shell for a change, she 
has them for me without my saying a word. Then 
when I have had enough of eggs, she makes me an 
omelette of fine herbs. She is a remarkably sensible 
child ; that little Suzel astonishes me ! ” 

Thinking in this way, he dressed himself and came 
down stairs. The farm-servants had finished their 
breakfast, and were putting the oxen to the plough, 
and preparing to set out to their work. 

A little snow-white cloth was spread on the end of 
the table, a knife and fork and plate were laid, and be- 
side them a small bottle of wine and a carafe of fresh 
water all covered over with sparkling dewdrops. The 
windows looking towards the valley were thrown open, 
and allowed the aromatic breeze from the pine woods 
to fill the apartment. 

At this moment Father Christel came in from the 
fields on the hill, his blouse damp with the early dew, 
and his shoes covered with yellow clay. 

‘‘ Well, Mr. Kobus,” cried the good man, “ how goes 
it with you this morning ? ” 

“ Capitally, Father Christel ; I feel more and more 
at home here ev^ry day. I am like a cow in clover ; 
your liitle Suzel allows me to want for nothing.” 

Then if Suzel were present, she would blush to the 
eyes and make her escape like lightning, and the old 
Anabaptist would say, “You praise that child toe 
much, Mr. Kobus ; you will make her conceited.” 


Friend Fritz. 


ri 

« Tut ! nonsense ! Bless my soul it’s only right tc 
encourage her a little. She is a most capital litt’e 
housekeeper. She will make your old days happy, 
Father Christel.” 

‘‘ God grant it, Mr. Kobus, both for her happiness 
and ours ! ” 

Then they sat down together to breakfast, and after 
breakfast they visited the works, which were proceed- 
i Qg rapidly and already getting into shape. The farmer 
then took his way to the fields, and Fritz went up to 
smoke a pipe in his own room, where he leaned his 
elbow on the window-sill and looked out at the labor- 
ers working at the reservoir, the farm-servants coming 
and going, driving the cattle to water, or digging in 
the garden. Mother Orchel sowing haricots, and Suzel 
tripping into the cowhouse with a little snow-white 
wooden pail to milk the cows, which she did every 
morning about seven o’clock and every evening at 
eight, after supper. 

Frequently, too, he would come down from his room 
into the yard to enjoy this last spectacle more 
thoroughly, for he had taken quite a fancy for live 
stock, and it was a real pleasure to him to see the sleek, 
docile cattle turning round on the approach of the 
little Suzel, with their bluish or reddish-colored muz- 
rles, and lowing in chorus as if to welcome her. 

“ Come round, Schwartz, come, Horni, let me pass ! ” 
cried Suzel to them, pushing them at the same time 
with her little plump hand. 

They never took their eyes off her, so fond were 
they of her, and when, seating herself on her little 


72 


Friend tritz. 


three-legged stool, she began to milk them, the great 
Blanche or the little Eoesel never ceased turning 
round to lick her face or her gown, which put her oui 
more than you could imagine. 

‘‘ I shall never get done, it is no use trying ! ” cried 
she. 

And Fritz, looking at the scene through the window, 
laughed heartily at her distress. 

Sometimes in the afternoon he would take the fish- 
ing-net from the wall and drop down the river to the 
grey rocks at the beech forest. There he cast the net 
over the sandy bottom, but he very rarely caught any- 
thing, and always when he was rowing homewards up 
the stream he would think — 

“ What a capital idea that was of the reservoir ! 
With one cast of the net I shall take more fish than I 
could catch in a fortnight in the river.” 

Thus the time slipped past at the farmhouse, and 
Kobus was astonished to find how little he missed his 
cellar, his kitchen, his old Katel, and the beer at the 
Stag, to which he had been accustomed for fourteen, 
years. 

“ I never think of these things now,” said he to 
himself sometimes of an evening, any more than if 
they never existed. I should like well enough tc see 
the old rabbi David, tall Frederick Schoultze, or the 
collector Haan, it is true ; I should enjoy a game at 
youker with them in the evenings, but I find I can do 
very w^ell without it. In fact, I think I feel better 
than I used to do ; my legs are not so stiff, and I have 
more appetite. That comes from the open air. When 


Hriend Fritz. 


73 


JL go back fco town I shall look as rosy and fresh-colored 
as a canon ; they won’t be able to see my eyes, I shall 
be so puffed up — ha ! ha ! ha ! ” 

One day, Suzel having taken it into her head to set 
off for the town and purchase a nice fat breast of veal, 
and dress it for dinner, with little onions cut small, 
and the yolks of eggs, and to add to this some beignets 
of a particular kind, powdered with cinnamon and 
sugar, Fritz found it all so good, that, having learned 
that Suzel had prepared these delicacies entirely with 
her own hands, he could not help saying to the Ana- 
baptist after the repast — 

‘‘ I say, Christel, that child of yours is quite ex- 
traordinary for her cleverness and good sense. Where 
the deuce could Suzel have learned so much ? It must 
come to her by nature.” 

“ Yes, Mr. Kobus, it is natural to her. Some peo- 
ple are born with these gifts, and others, unfortunately 
for them, are not. Look at my dog Mopsel, for exam- 
ple, he is a capital watch, but if you were to try to 
make a sporting dog of him, he would be good for 
nothing at all. Our child, Mr. Kobus, is born to look 
after a household. She knows how to steop the flax, 
to spin the yarn, to wash, make butter, press cheese, 
and cook, as well as my wife does. You never need 
to say to her, ‘ Suzel, you must do so and so,’ she 
knows it quite well herself, and that’s what I call be- 
ing a real housekeeper — that is, she will be in a year 
or two’s time, for at present she is not strong enough 
for heavy work. But one day or other she will be a 
veal housewife ; she has got the gift from God, hex 
4 


74 


Friend Fritz. 


heart is in it. Old Froelig the gamekeeper used to 
say, ‘ It’s a lad job when you have to drive your dog 
to the game ; a true sporting dog will go after it him- 
self. You have no need to tell him “ That’s a sparrow, 
and that other is a quail or a partridge;” he never 
points at a clod of earth as if it was a hare.’ Now 
Mopsel wouldn’t know the one from the other. But 
as regards Suzel, I make bold to say she is cut out by 
nature for a housekeeper.” 

It’s as true as the Gospel,” said Fritz. “ But 
the gift of cooking, look you, is a real blessing of 
Heaven. You may steep flax, spin, wash, or what- 
ever you please, with stout arms and legs and a good 
will, but to distinguish one sauce from another, and 
know when to use each of them, is something rare. 
That’s the reason I admire these beignets more than 
all the rest, and I maintain that to make them as 
good as that needs a thousand times more talent than 
to spin and bleach fifty yards of linen.” 

“ It’s quite possible, Mr. Kobus ; you know more 
of such matters than I do.” 

“ Yes, Christel, and I am so much pleased with 
these beignets that I would like to know how she 
managed to make them.” 

“ Oh ! we have only to ask her,” said the old farmer. 
“ She will soon explain that for us. Suzel ! Suzel ! ” 

Suzel was just then busy making butter in the 
kitchen, with her white apron and bib fastened round 
her waist and buttoned at the neck behind, and 
reaching from the hem of her little blue woollen 
petticoat to her pretty rosy chin in front. Hundred? 


Friend Fritz. 


75 


of little white specks were dotted over her rounded 
arras and her cheeks, and some even were scatteied 
through her hair, such ardor bad she shown in her 
work. It was in tliis guise that she hastened in, all 
animation, and asked — 

“ What is it, father ? ” 

And Fritz, seeing her standing there fresh and 
smiling, her large blue eyes dilated with artless sur- 
prise, and her little mouth half open, and showing 
her pretty white teeth — Fritz, I say, could not help 
thinking that she was as appetising as a plate oi 
strawberries and cream. 

“ What is the matter, father ? ” said she with her 
little gay voice. ‘‘ You were calling me ? ” 

“ Yes ; here is Mr. Kobus, who thinks your beignets 
so good that he would be glad to know the receipt.” 

Suzel turned quite red with pleasure. 

“ Oh ! Mr. Kobus is making fun of me.” 

‘‘ No, Suzel, these beignets are delicious ! Let me 
see, how did you make them ? ” 

‘‘ Oh ! Mr. Kobus ! it is quite easy. I first put — 
but, if you please, I will write it out for you — you 
might forget it.” 

‘‘ What ! does she know how to write, Father 
Christel ? ” 

‘‘ She has kept all the accounts of the farm for the 
last ten years,” said the old Anabaptist. 

‘‘ Tlie deuce she has ! Only think of that ! Why, 
she is a finished housekeeper ! I must call her JMiss 
Suzel in future. Well, Suzel, it’s agreed. You will 
write me the recipe.” 


76 


Friend Fritz. 


And Snzel, as happy as a little queen, returned to 
the kitchen, and Kobus lighted his pipe and smoked 
away until the coffee came in. 

The works of the reservoir were completed the 
following day, about five o’clock in the evening. It 
was thirty yards long by twenty broad, and was 
inclosed by a strong wall ; but before putting up the 
grated sluices, which had been ordered from Kligen- 
thal, it was necessary to wait until the masonry 
should be quite dry. 

The laborers took their departure therefore with 
their picks and shovels on their shoulders, and the 
same evening after supper Fritz announced his inten- 
tion of returning to Hunebourg the next morning. 
This announcement filled every one with sorrow. 

“ You are going at the very pleasantest time of the 
year,” said the Anabaptist. ‘‘ In a day or two more 
the tassels will be out on the nut-trees, the lilacs and 
elders will be budding, the furze on the hill will 
be in full bloom, and the hedges will be thick with 
violets.” 

“ And then,” said Mother Orchel, “ there is Suzel, 
who was hoping to have young radishes for you one 
of these days.” 

“ It can’t be helped,” replied Fritz. “I shouldn’t 
ask better than to stay ; but I have money to 
receive anti receipts to give, perhaps letters waiting 
for me. Ar.d besides, in a fortnight I shall be back 
again to see the sluices put up, and then I can see all 
that you are telling me of.” 

“ Well, since it must be so,” said the farmer, “ we 


F't^nd Fritz, 'll 

shall say no more about it. “ But it’s vexatious all 
the same.” 

“No doubt, Father Christel ; I am very sorry my- 
self to go.” 

The little Suzel said nothing, but she looked quite 
downcast; and that evening Fritz, when smoking a 
pipe according to custom at his window, did not hear 
her merry little voice singing as she washed up the 
vessels in the dairy. On the right towards Hune- 
bourg the sky glowed like a furnace, while on the 
opposite side of the valley the hills changed gradually 
from an azure tint to the deepest purple, and at last 
disappeared in the shades of night. Deep down in 
the valley the river wound along like a stream of mol- 
ten gold, and the willows with their long pendent 
leaves, the firs with their spearlike points, the osiers 
and aspens trembling in the light breeze, stood out in 
dark relief- against the luminous background. Some 
marsh-bird, probably a kingfisher, uttered his discor- 
dant cry from time to time. Then all was silent, and 
Fritz retired to rest. 

The next morning, at eight o’clock, he had break- 
fasted, and, stick in hand, was standing before the 
door of the farmhouse, with the old A^nabaptist and 
Mother Orchel, ready to set out. 

“ But where is Suzel ? ” cried he ; “I haven’t seen 
her this morning yet. 

“ She must be in the cowhouse or the yard,” said 
the farmer’s wife. 

“ Well, go and find her ; I can’t leave MeisenthaJ 
without bidding her good-bye.” 


78 


Friend Fritz. 


Orcliel went into the house, and a few minutes 
afterwards Suzel appeared, her cheeks quite red with 
blushes. 

‘‘Come here, Suzel,” cried Kobus; “I want to 
thank you. I am very much pleased with you — you 
have been most attentive to me. And as a proof of 
my satisfaction, see, here is a gulden to do what you 
please with.” 

But Suzel, instead of looking pleased at this pres- 
ent, seemed quite confused. 

“ Thank you, Mr. Kobus,” said she. 

And as Fritz insisted, saying, “ Take it, Suzel, you 
have earned it fairly,” she, turning her head away, 
burst into tears. 

“ What does all this mean ? ” said Father Christel. 
“ What are you crying about ? ” 

“ I don’t know, father,” said she, sobbing. 

And Kobus on his side thought — 

“ The little thing is hurt ; she thinks I am treating 
her as a servant, and that vexes her.” 

So, putting the gulden back in his pocket, he said — 

“ Listen, Suzel, I will buy you something myself ; 
that will be better. Only you must shake hands with 
me, otherwise I shall think you are angry with me.” 

Then Suzel, hiding her pretty face in her apron, and 
half turning away her head, held out her hand, and 
when Fritz had pressed it, ran back quickly into the 
passage. 

“ Children have odd ideas,” said the Anabaptist. 
“ Look you, she thought you wanted to pay her for 
what she did for you with her whole heart.” 


Friend Fritz. 


79 


“ Yes,” said Kobus, “ I am very sorry I vexed her.” 
“ Oh,” cried Mother Orchel, she is quite too proud. 
I fear that child will give us trouble.” 

“ Don’t be uneasy about that. Mother Orchel,” said 
Fritz, laughing. “ It’s much better to have too much 
spirit than too little, believe me, especially for girls. 
And now good-bye for the present.” 

He then took his departure accompanied by Chris- 
tel, who went with him as far as the crest of the hill. 
They separated near the rocks, and Kobus pursued 
hif way alone at a smart pace towards Honebotirg. 


CHAPTER VII. 


Notwithstanding all the pleasure he had had at the 
farm, it was not without a lively feeling of satisfaction 
that Fritz saw the buildings of Hunebourg appear in 
view on the summit of the opposite hill. Just aa 
everything was moist and dripping in the valley on 
the day of his departure, so everything was now dry 
and clear. The great meadow of Finckmath stretch- 
ed like an immense carpet of verdure from the glacis 
to the rivulet of the Ablettes, and on the heights above 
the great manure-heaps of the cavalry barracks at 
Postth^l, the little gardens of the veterans surround- 
ed with their bright green hedges, and the moss-grown 
ramparts, produced a magnificent efiect. 

He could distinguish, too, behind the clipped aca- 
cias of the little square, near the town-hall, the white 
front of his own house ; and notwithstanding the dis- 
tance, he could see that the windows were thrown 
open to admit the fresh air. 

While pursuing his way he pictured to himself the 
brewery of the Great Stag, with its courtyard behind 
surrounded by plantain-trees, and the little tables 
ranged about underneath, thronged with people, seated 
before their foaming tankards of beer. He saw him- 
self in his own room again, in his shirt-sleeves, his 
ti'ousers p died tightly about his waist, and his feet 


Friend Fritz 


81 


ohrust into his slippers, and he said to himself with 
a thrill of satisfaction — 

‘‘ After all, a man is never so comfortable as in his 
»wn house, and in his everyday clothes, and following 
his old habits. I have spent a fortnigh t very pleasantly 
at Meisenthal, it is true, but if I had been obliged to 
-stop much longer I should have found the time hang 
heavy. Now we shall begin our discussions again, old 
David Sichel and I, and have our pleasant games at 
youker with Frederick Schoultz, the collector Haari, 
Speck, and the others. That is what suits me best. 
When I am comfortably seated at my own table, 
either before a good dinner or settling accounts of an 
evening, I feel as if it were the natural place for me. 
Elsewhere I may be happy enough, but never so calm, 
so much at my ease, as in good old Hunebourg.” 

Musing in this fashion, he continued his walk along 
the path which leads across the Finckmath meadows, 
and in half-an-hour had reached the manure-heaps of 
the Postthal, and passed behind them preparatory to 
entering the town. 

“WTiat will old Katel say to me?” thought he. 
“She will empty her budget, I may be sure; theie 
will be no end of reproaches for my long absence.” 

And, passing beneath the Hildebrandt gate, he 
wound his way along the principal street of the town, 
smiling as ne gazed right and left into the open doors 
and windows, and recognized his old neighbors and 
acquaintances; Schwartz, the tinsmith, busy cutting 
away at his sheets of tin, with his spectacles on his 
little flat nose, and his eyes wide open ; Sporte, the 


82 


Friend Fritz. 


turner, making his lathe ^\hirl, and sending off an 
endless stream of shavings; Koffel, the weaver, a 
little yellow man, plying his loom and driving his 
shuttle backwards and forwards with interminable 
clatter; Nickel, the blacksmith, shoeing Hierthe’s 
the gendarme’s horse at the door of the forge ; and 
Schweyer, the cooper, ramming down the hoops on 
his barrels, and making his shed resound with the 
heavy blows of his mallet. 

All these sounds, this busy movement, this brilliant 
light on the housetops contrasting with the deep shade 
below, the meeting so many people, who all saluted him 
with a peculiar expression which seemed to say, “ Oh, 
here is Mr. Kobus back again, T must hurry home and 
tell my wife the news ; ” the children in school repeat- 
ing their lessons in chorus — ba, ba, be, be : and the 
good- wives collected in groups of five or six before 
the doors, knitting or peeling potatoes, and chatter- 
ing away like magpies, stopping to stick their needles 
behind their ears, and exclaim, “ Oh ! is that you, 
Mr. Kobus ? it’s a long time since we saw you ! ” — 
all this rejoiced his heart, and brought him back to 
his usual frame of mind again. 

‘‘ I shall change my clothes when I get home,” said 
he to himself, ‘‘and then go over and have a glass of 
beer at the Stag.” 

Buoyed up with these agreeable thoughts, he turned 
the corner at the mairie and crossed the square of the 
A.cacias, where several old half-pay captains were walk- 
ing soberly about warming their rheumatic limbs in the 
8 U 17 , and seven or eight hussar oflicers were strutting tc 


Frieivi Frit^. 


8b 


0uid fro as stiff in their padded uniforms as if they had 
been made of wood. 

But he had not reached the top of the five or six 
steps leading up to his hall door when he heard old 
Katel exclaiming in the hall — 

“ Why, here is Mr. Kobus ! ” 

‘‘ Yes, yes, here I am,” said he, running up the 
remaining steps. 

“ Ah ! Mr. Kobus,” exclaimed the old woman, 
clasping her hands, ‘‘ how uneasy I have been about 
you ! ” 

“ Why, Katel, did I not tell you when I came to 
fetch the workmen that I should be away five or six 
days ? ” 

‘‘ Yes, sir, but for all that, to be left alone in the 
house, to have to cook for only one ” 

“ No doubt, no doubt. I understand that. I put 
you out of your way a little, but once in fifteen years 
is not much. At all events, here I am back again, 
and you will have to cook for both of us. And now, 
Katel, you had better go ; I want to change my 
clothes. I am all in a sweat.” 

“ Oh, sir, make haste, then ; one is so apt to get 
cold.” 

Fritz entered his bedroom, and shut the door, think- 
ing to himself — 

“ So here I am back again ! ” 

He was no longer like the same man. All the time 
]ie was drawing the blinds, washing himself, and 
changing his clothes, he kept laughing and saying to 
himself- - 


Si 


Friend Fricz. 


“ Ha ! ha ! ha ! Now T shall enjoy myself, now 1 
shall gel a langh again ! Those oxen, and cows, and 
fowls at the farm were making me quite melancholy.” 

And the tall Schoultz, the collector Haan, the old 
rabbi David, the brewery of the Stag, the old couit 
of the synagogue, the market-house, the square, the 
entire town passed before his eyes like the figures in 
a magic-lantern. 

At last in about twenty minutes he came out 
again, fresh, neatly dressed, and gay, his broad- 
brimmed felt hat on one side, his face beaming, and 
said to Katel as he passed — 

“ I’m going out ; I shall take a turn through the 
town.” 

‘‘ Yes, sir — but you will be back again ? ” 

Yes, yes, don’t be uneasy : I shall be here on the 
stroke of twelve for dinner.” 

And he went downstairs, asking himself — 

“ Where shall I go first ? To the Stag ? There 
will be no one there till noon. Let’s go and see old 
David — yes, let’s call on the old rabbi. It’s odd that 
the very thought of him sets me laughing. I must 
make him angry, I must say something to annoy him — 
it will set my liver in motion and give me an appetite 
for dinner.” 

With this agreeable perspective in view he turned 
down the street of the Capucins and soon reached 
the court of the synagogue, which he entered through 
the ancient-looking gateway. Every one at that time 
crossed this court to reach the little flight of steps 
which led down to the Jews’ street. It was as old as 


Friend FHtz. 


85 


Uunebourg itself. Nothing was to be seen on all 
sides but tall decrepit houses lying in deep shadow 
and furrowed with lines of rusty spouting. All 
Judea had suspended from every skylight and coign 
of vantage, even to the roof tops, their ragged stock- 
ings, old greasy petticoats, patched trowsers and tat- 
tered linen. At every window appeared palsied 
heads, toothless gums, projecting noses and chins, 
which met and jostled each other. You would have 
said the owners must have come from Nineveh or 
Babylon, or had escaped from the captivity in Egypt, 
so old did they look. 

Filthy streams of refuse water trickled down the 
walls, and, to tell the truth, the whole place smelt any- 
thing but sweet. 

At the gate of the court a Christian mendicant sat 
squatted on the ground with his legs folded under him ; 
he had a beard of three weeks’ growth and quite grey, 
dark hair, and mutton-chop-shaped whiskers. He was 
an old soldier of the Empire, and went by the name 
of the Frantzoze. 

Old David lived at the farther end of the court with 
his old wife, Sourle, who was round and fat, but as 
yellow as saffron, and with a deep semicircular fuiTow 
down each cheek. Her nose was flat, her eyes a very 
•lark brown, and her mouth encircled with innumera- 
ble little wrinkles radiating from it on all sides. She 
wore a bandage on her forehead, according to the law 
of Moses, to conceal her hair so as not to seduce stran- 
gers, and was really a kind-hearted woman whom Da- 
vid took a pride in proclaiming as the model of her sex. 


l 


86 


Friend Fritz. 


Fritz put a groschm in the wooden howl cf the 
Frantzoze^ l,nd puffing away vigorously at his pipe, 
which he had lighted in order to enable him to cross 
the savory locality, he stopped opposite the little stair- 
case, each step of which was worn into a hollow like 
the stone underneath a drop-spout, and bending down 
sideways and looking through a little round window 
almost level with the ground, saw the rabbi seated at 
the farther end of a large smoke-stained apartment 
before an old oaken table, with his two elbows resting 
on a huge folio with red-edged leaves, and supporting 
his wrinkled forehead on his hands. 

Old David’s face in this attitude of reflection, and 
seen by the dim grey light, was not without a certain 
air of gravity and distinction. The whole features 
had something of the dreamy and contemplative ex- 
pression of the dromedary, which is found more or less 
in all the Eastern races. 

“ He is reading the Talmud,” thought Fritz. 

Then descending two of the steps, he opened the 
door, crying — 

“ So you are still elbow-deep in the Law and the 
Prophets, you o\6. posche- Israel f ” 

‘‘ Ah ! is it you, scoffer ? ” said the old rabbi, whose 
face instantly lighted up with an air of inward joy and 
at the same time of keen and good-humored sarcasm. 
“ So you found you couldn’t do without me any longer, 
eh ? You were getting tired of your own company, 
and are right glad to see me again ? ” 

‘‘ Yes, every time I see you it is always with fresb 
pleasure,” said Kobus, laughing. ‘‘ It is a great grati 


Friend Fritz. 


87 


fication to me to find myself face to face with a true 
believer, a descendant of the virtuous Jacob who plun- 
dered his brother ” 

‘‘ Halt there,” exclaimed the rabbi; ‘‘ I can’t stand 
your jests on such subjects. You are an epicurus, 
without faith or law. I would rather sustain a formal 
argument against two hundred priests, fifty bishops, 
and the Pope himself, than argue with you. They at 
least would be forced to admit the texts, to acknowl- 
edge that Abraham, Jacob, and David, and all the pro- 
phets were good men ; but you, accursed schaude^ that 
you are, you deny everything, you reject everything ; 
you declare that all our patriarchs were robbers or I 
know not what ; you are worse than the plague ; one 
can’t meet you in any way, and for this reason, Kobus, 
I beg you will drop the subject. It is very unfair of 
you to attack me on matters about which I should be 
in some sort ashamed to defend myself. I should 
rather you would send me the cwri.” 

Fritz burst into a roar of laughter, and throwing 
himself into a chair, exclaimed — 

“ Rabbi, I love you — you are the best fellow and 
the pleasantest companion I know ; so since you are 
ashamed to defend Abraham, let us talk of something 
else.” 

. “ He has no need of me to defend him,” exclaimed 
David, “ he can defend himself sufficiently.” 

‘‘ True, it wouldn’t be an easy matter to harm him 
I ow,” said Fritz ; “ however, as you don’t like the 


88 


Friend Fritz. 


subject, let us drop it. But, David, I invite myself 
to take a glass of kirscbenwasser with you. You 
know you have some very good.” 

This proposition smoothed the brow of the old 
rabbi at once, for he really disliked to argue on religi- 
ous subjects with Kobus. He rose with a smile, opened 
the door of the kitchen, and said to the good old 
Souris, who was busy kneading the paste for a 
ichaled * — 

“ Sourle, give me the keys of the cupboard ; my 
friend Kobus is here, and he would like to take a 
glass of kirscbenwasser.” 

Good day, Mr. Kobus !” cried the good woman. “ ] 
can’t come to you, for I am up to my elbows in paste.’' 

Fritz had risen from his chair and was looking 
through the doorway of the little dark kitchen, which 
was lighted by a small diamond-paned window, at the 
good old woman kneading at the bakeboard, whilst 
David took the keys from her pocket. 

“ Don’t disturb yourself, Sourl6,” said he, ‘‘ don’t 
disturb yourself.” 

David returned, shut the kitchen door, and opening 
a little press containing a decanter of kirscbenwasser 
and three small glasses, he placed them on the table, 
delighted to have anything to offer Kobus. The lat- 
ter, seeing this feeling, exclaimed that the kirschen* 
wasser was delicious. 

“ You have better of your own,” said the old rabbi, 
tasting it. 


♦ Jewish cake. 


J^riend Fritz, 


89 


^ no, David, perhaps as good, but not better.” 
‘‘ Will you have another glass ? ” 

‘‘ No, thank you, we ought not to abuse these good 
gifts, as my father used to say. I will come another 
time.” 

Then they were reconciled. The old rabbi pucker- 
ing up his face with a sly expression, resumed — 

‘‘ And what is this you have been about at your farm 
out yonder, schaude f People say you have spent a 
lot of money in making a reservoir for hsn. Is that 
true ? ” 

“ It is true, David.” 

“ Ah ! ” exclaimed the old rabbi, ‘‘ that doesn’t 
surprise me in the least. Wherever eating and drink- 
ing are concerned, you don’t care a farthing for 
expense.” And, shaking his head, he added in a 
sort of nasal whine, ‘‘ Always the same, always the 
same ! ” 

Pritz smiled. 

Listen, David,” said he. ‘‘ Six or seven months 
hence, when fish are scarce, and you are going about 
the market poking your long nose everywhere with- 
out finding anything you can eat — for look you, old 
fellow, you like a choice morsel as well as myself — 
yes, you may shake your head, but you are like the 

eats — you love a bit of fish dearly ” 

‘‘ Why, Kobus, Kobus ! ” exclaimed David, ‘‘ are 
you going to make me out an epicurus of your species ? 
No doubt I like a nice plump pike in my plate better 
than a cow’s tail, that’s a matter of course ; I wo uldn’t 
have the feelings of a man if I didn’t ; but I nevei 


Friend Fritz, 


eo 

tliink of these things beforehand. Sourl6 takes 
charge of all such matters.” 

“ Ta ! Ta ! Ta ! ” said Kobus. ‘‘ When six months 
hence I send you a dish of fine trout, with a few bottles 
oi forstheimer for the feast of SimresThora,^ we shall 
see if you have anything to say against my reservoir.” 

David smiled. 

“ The Lord,” said he, “ has made everything well. 
To some He gives prudence, to others sobriety. Now 
you are prudent. I don’t make your prudence a re- 
proach to you, it is a gift from God, and when the 
trout come they will be most welcome.” 

“ Amen ! ” said Fritz. 

And both laughed heartily. Nevertheless Kobus 
had set his heart on enraging the old rabbi. All at 
once he said — 

“ And the women, David, what about the women 1 
Have you not found one for me yet? The twenty- 
fourth, eh? You ought to make haste and get that 
vineyard of mine at Sonnenberg. I should like to see 
what the twenty-fourth is like.” 

Before replying, David’s face assumed a grave ex- 
pression. 

‘‘ Kobus,” said he, I recollect an old fable, from 
which we may all get a lesson. Before being asses, 
says the story, the asses were horses ; they had fine 
limbs, small heads, and short ears, and their tails were 
long and flowing instead of being, as they are now, 
like a rope with a bunch of hair at the end. Now it 


* Feast of rejoicing for the promulgation of the Law to the Jewish peopla 


Friend Fritz. 


91 


happened tliLt one of these horses, the great-grand- 
father of all the asses, finding himself one day in a 
field of grass which reached up to his belly, said to 
himself — ‘This grass is too coarse for me; what I 
\i ould like is a fine herbage, so delicate that no other 
horse ever tasted the like.’ So he left the pasturage, 
in search of this fine herbage. Farther on he found 
grass much coarser than that which he had left, and 
passed on in disgust. Farther still he came to the 
edge of a morass, where nothing grew but rushes and 
£ags. Making the circuit, of this morass he entered 
on a dry sandy tract of ground, still searching for his 
fine herbage, but he could not even find a blade of 
moss. By this time he was very hungry ; he looked 
eagerly about him on all sides, and spying some thistles 
in a hollow he ate them with a good relish. Immedi- 
ately his ears shot up to a great size, a tuft of hair 
sprouted out at the end of his tail, he tried to neigh, 
but began braying instead : he was the first of the ass 
tribe ! ” 

Fritz, in place of laughing at this story, felt vexed 
at it without knowing why. 

“ And if he had not eaten the thistles ? ” said he. 

“ In that case he would have been in still worse a 
|)light — in place of a living ass he would have been a 
•lead one.” 

“ Your story has no meaning, David.” 

“ Perhaps not. But, for all that, it is better’ to 
marry young than take your cook for a wife, as most 
old bachelors do. Believe me ” 

“ Go to Jericho ! ” exchiimed Kobus, rising 


92 Friend Fritz, 

“ There’s tw elve o’clock striking. I have no time tc 
answer you now.” 

David accompanied him to the door, smiling in- 
wardly, and as they separated — 

‘‘ Well, Kobus,” said he, with a sly air, ‘‘ you woul\ 
have none of the wives I suggestei to you, and per- 
haps you were right ; but, mark my words, you will 
soon look out for one for yourself.” 

Posche-Israel ! ” replied Kobus, ^^Posche-Israel ! ” 
And shrugging his shoulders and clasping his hands 
together with an air of profound pity, he hurried 
away. 

“ David ! ” exclaimed Sourle from the kitchen, 
“ dinner is ready ; will you lay the table ? ” 

But the old rabbi stood looking after Fritz with a 
most comical expression in his keen half-shut eyes, 
until the latter had disappeared through the gateway, 
and then he re-entered the house, laughing quietly al 
the scene which had just taken place. 


CHAPTER Vin. 


After dinner Fritz repaired to the brewery of the 
Stag, and there found his old comrades, Frederick 
Schoultz, Haan, and the rest, just beginning their 
game of youJcer^ which they were in the habit of play- 
ing every day in the year, from one till two o’clock, 
from the 1st of January to Saint Sylvester. 

Naturally he was greeted on all sides with cries of— 

“ Here’s Kobus ! Why, Kobus, where have you 
been?” 

And every one hastened to make room for him, 
while he, smiling and happy, shook hands right and 
left. At last he took his seat at the end of the table 
opposite the windows, and the little Lotchen, with her 
white apron neatly spread out over her red petticoat, 
placed a tankard of beer before him. He took it up, 
held it gravely between his eye and the light to ad- 
mire the beautiful amber color, blew the froth from 
the surface, and drank it slowly and thoughtfully 
with half-shut eyes, merely saying as he set down the 
tankard, ‘‘It is good.” Then he leaned over the 
shoulder of the great Frederick, to see what sort of 
cards had been dealt him. It was thus that he slid, 
easily and naturally, into his former habits. 

“ Clubs are trumps ! I take the ace ! ” cried 
Schoultz. 


94 Friend Fritz, 

“ And the deal is mine,” said Haan, picking up the 
cards. 

The glasses clinked, the cans rattled, and Fritz 
thought no more of the valley of the Meisenthal than 
of the Grand Turk. He fancied he had never left 
Hunebourg. 

At two o’clock the professor Speck entered the room 
with his large, square-toed shoes, into which were 
stuck two immense, meagre legs, his long- tailed ma- 
roon coat, and his turned-up nose, which seemed snuff- 
ing about in search of good cheer. He took off his 
hat with a solemn air, and said — 

“ I have the honor to announce to the company 
that the storks have arrived.” 

Immediately the brewery echoed on all sides with 
cries of, “ The storks have arrived ! The storks have 
arrived ! ” 

There was great excitement. Every one quitted his 
half-emptied glass to rush out and see the storks. In 
less than a minute there were more than a hundred 
persons standing with their noses in the air in front 
of the Great Stag. 

On a pinnacle of the church, a stork, standing 
motionless on one of his long stilt-like legs, his black 
wings folded over his white tail, and his great red bill 
drooping with a melancholy air, was being gazed at 
with admiration by the whole town. The female bird 
was wheeling around her mate, and trying to alight on 
a projecting point, on which might still be seen some 
of the twigs of the former year’s nest. 

The rabbi David had hurried to the spot with the 


Friend Fritz. 


95 


rest, and, gazing up with his old hat jiorched on Jie 
back of his neck, was exclaiming — 

“ They come from J erusalem ! They have rested 6 j 
the pyramids of Egypt ! They have crossed the seas ! ” 

Throughout the whole length of the street, in front 
of the market-house, nothing was to be seen but 
fathers and mothers of families with their children, 
their heads thrown back, gazing upwards in a sort oi 
ecstasy. Some old women were wiping their eyes and 
saying, “We have seen them once more, praised be 
God!” 

Kobus, beholding all these good people with their 
beaming countenances and attitudes of wonder and 
delight, thought to himself, “ It’s very odd how little 
it takes to amuse people in general.” 

The countenance of the old rabbi especially, with 
its expression of pious emotion, diverted him greatly. 

“ Well, rabbi,” said he, so you think this a fine 
sight? ” 

Then the other, lowering his eyes, and seeing him 
laughing, exclaimed — 

“ Have you no bowels of compassion at all ? Do 
you see nothing but subjects of mockery everywhere? 
Have you no feeling ? ” 

“ Don’t shout so loud, scTumM / every one is look- 
ing at us.” 

“ And if I choose to shout aloud ! If I choose to 
tell you plain truths I If I choose 

Luckily at this moment the storks, after resting for 
a short time, flew off to make the circuit of the town, 
and take possession of the clouds of Hunebourg, and 


9C 


Friend Fritz. 


the whole square, transported with enthusiasm, burst 
into a shout of admiration. 

The two birds, as if by way of reply to this saluta* 
tion, gave one or two clacks with their bills while 
hovering in the air, and a troop of children followed 
them down the Rue dcs Capucins, crying, ‘‘ Tra^ r% ro, 
summer’s come again ! You, you, summer’s come 
again ! ” 

Kobus then returned to the brewery with the 
others, and until seven o’clock there was nothing 
talked of but the return of the storks, and the pro- 
tection which they gave to every town where they 
built their nests, without speaking of a host of other 
services peculiar to Hunebourg, such as exterminating 
the frogs, adders, and lizards with which the old 
ditches of the fortress would otherwise have been in- 
fested, and not only the ditches, but both banks oi 
the Lauter, which would have been swarming with 
reptiles if Heaven had not sent these birds to destroy 
the vermin of the fields. 

David Sichel having joined the company, Fritz, to 
tease him, began to assert that the Jews were former- 
ly in the habit of killing the storks and eating them 
at their festivals, and that this custom had brought 
divers plagues on their race, and in particular the 
plague of leprosy, to such an extent as to make them 
a byword amongst their neighboring nations. 

This assertion exasperated the old rabbi to such a 
degree that he exclaimed that Fritz deserved to bo 
hung. 

Then Fritz was revenged for the apologue of the 


Friend Fritz. 


97 


ass and the thistles, tears of mirth ran down his 
cheeks, and to put the finishing stroke to his triun.ph, 
the tall Frederick Schoultz, Haan, and Professor 
Speck exclaimed that the two friends must be recon- 
ciled again, that it would never do for old acquaint- 
ances like David and Kobus to quarrel about a pack 
of storks. 

They proposed that Fritz should retract his asser- 
tion, and that then David would be forced to forgive 
him. This proposal was accepted, and David and he 
embraced each other tenderly, whilst the old rabbi 
exclaimed amidst his tears — 

‘‘ That only for that fault which he had of laughing 
without rhyme or reason, Kobus would be the best 
fellow in the world.” 

I leave you to imagine the fun that our friend Fritz 
made out of this history. He never ceased laiighing 
over it till midnight, and even during the night he 
awoke from time to time to laugh again. 

“ You would go far,” thought he, “ before you 
could find as honest fellows as there are in Hunebourg. 
That poor Rabbi David, isn’t he honest in his belief? 
And that great Frederick, with his stupid, good- 
humored face ; and Haan, with his rich, oily chuckle ! 
What happiness it is to live in such a place ! ” 

The following morning at eight o’clock he was still 
sound asleep, when a sort of odd grating sound awoke 
him. He listened for awhile, and then remembered 
that it was Higuebic the grinder who came every 
Wednesday, and stationed himself at the corner of 
his house, with his wheel, to sharpen the knives and 


98 


Friend Fritz. 


scissors of the neighborhood. Tliis annoyed him a 
gtod deal, as he was still very sleepy. Every instant 
the whizzing sound of the wheel was interrupted by 
the chattering of the housewives around ; then a dog 
began to bark, then an ass set up a bray, then a dis- 
cussion arose about the price of the grinding, then 
something else. 

“ The deuce take them ! ” thought Kobus. “ Isn’t 
it the duty of the mayor to forbid such practices ? 
The poorest peasant can sleep in peace, and yet well- 
to-do citizens are to be wakened up in this way at 
eight o’clock from the negligence of the authorities.” 

All at once Higuebic began to shout in a drawling 
whine — 

Knives and scissors to grind ! ” 

Then Fritz could contain himself no longer, ana 
jumped out of bed, furious. 

‘‘ I must see about this,” said he to himself ; “ I 
shall bring the matter before the justice of the peace. 
This Higuebic will think at last that the comer of my 
house belongs to him. For the last forty-five years 
he has been annoying us all, my grandfather, my 
father, and myself, and that ought to be enough. It 
is full time to put an end to it.” 

Kobus’s thoughts ran on this way all the time he 
was dressing. The habit of sleeping at the farmhouse, 
with no noise to disturb him but the rustling of the 
leaves, h?,d quite spoiled him. But after breakfast he 
thought no more of this trifling annoyance. The idea 
had occurred to him to bottle two pipes of Bhine wine 
that he had purchased the preceding autumn. He 


Friend Fritz, 


99 


sent Katel, therefore, to fetch the cooper, and in the 
meantime put on a large grey woollen jacket, which 
he always wore when doing anything in the cellars. 

Father Schweyer arrived, his leather apron over 
his knees, his mallet stuck in his waistband, his auger 
under his arm, and his broad face beaming with good- 
humor. 

‘‘ Well, Mr. Kobus,” said he, so we are to set to 
work to-day ? ” 

“ Yes, Father Schweyer, it is full time ; the marko- 
hrunner has been in cask foi‘ fifteen months, and the 
Steinberg for six years.” 

“ Very good ; and what about the bottles ?” 

“ They were rinsed and drained three weeks ago. ” 

“ Oh, let the Kobuses alone for managing the noble 
juice of the grape,” said Schweyer ; “it goes from 
father to son with them. Then we may go down at 
once?” 

“Yes; follow me.” 

Fritz lighted a candle in the kitchen, and seizing 
one handle of a hamper full of bottles, while Schweyer 
took the other, they descended to the cellar. Enter- 
ing the outer vault, the old cooper exclaimed — 

“ What a cellar ! — how dry everything is ! Hem ! 
hem ! What a clear sound ! Ah ! Mr. Kobus, I 
have said a thousand times you have the best cellar in 
the town.” 

Then walking up to the cask and striking it with 
his knuckles — 

“ This is the markohrunner, is it not ? ” 

“ Yes, and that there is the Steinberg y 


LofC. 


100 Friend Fritz. 

“ Very goo ' ; we shall have a word or two to saj 
to both.” 

Then stooping down, and placing the auger to the 
pit of his stomach, he drilled a hole in the pipe of 
ma/rhobrunner^ and dexterously inserted a tap in the 
opening; after which Kobus handed him a bottle, 
which he filled and corked. Fritz smeared the cork 
with blue wax and stamped it with a seal. In this 
way the operation went on to the great satisfaction of 
Kobus and Schweyer. From time to time they 
stopped and said laughing — 

‘‘ Suppose we rest for a little ? ” 

‘‘ And have a drop of something,” added Fritz. 

Then, taking the little goblet from the bung, they 
refreshed themselves with a glass of this excellent 
wine and resumed their labors. 

On all previous occasions of this kind, Kobus, after 
drinking one or two glasses, used to strike up, in a 
terribly strong voice, any old air that happened to 
come into his head, such as the Miserere^ the fnn 
of Gambrinus, or the song of the Three JSussars. 

“ It sounds as if you were in a cathedral,” he w( aid 
say, laughing. 

“ Yes,” Schweyer would reply, “ you say well. It’s 
a pity you hadn’t been one of our grand choral u>ion 
at Johannisberg ; your voice would have drowned 
every one’s there.” 

He then began to relate how in his time, thirty-five 
or forty years before, there was a society of coopei'S, 
lovers of music, in the country of Nassau, and that in 
this society they never sang except to the accompani 


Friend Fritz, 


101 


ment of pipes, casks, and flagons ; that the cans and 
tankards formed the treble, and the great hogsheads 
the bass ; that nothing could be imagined more sweet 
and melodious ; that the daughters of the master 
coopers distributed the prizes to the successful compe- 
titors, and that he, Schweyer, had once received a sil 
ver cup full of grapes for his harmonious performance 
on a fifty-three gallon cask. He told all this with such 
a touching and sentimental air that Fritz could scarcely 
help bursting out laughing. 

He used to relate many other curious things of the 
like kind, and was eloquent in his praise of the Grand 
Duke of Nassau’s cellar, “ which,” said he, “ contained 
most precious wines, the date of which was lost in the 
mists of antiquity.” 

It was in this way that old Schweyer was wont to 
enliven their labors, without, however, allowing his 
pleasant remarks to hinder the progress of the work ; 
on the contrary, the bottles were filled, corked, sealed, 
and stored away with increased regularity and speed. 

Kobus was formerly in the habit of encouraging 
Schweyer when his gaiety flagged, either by some jocose 
remarks, or by putting him on the scent of his old 
stories. But this day the old cooper thou^t he re- 
marked that Fritz was inclined to be absent and 
thoughtful. 

Twice or thrice he attempted to sing, but after a few 
bars he sf opped to look at a cat making its escape 
through the grated window, or a child’s face peering 
dowm curiously to see what was going on in the cellar, 
or else to listen to the hissing of the knife-grinder’s 


102 


Friend Fritz, 


wheel, the barking of his little bandy-legged dog, oi 
some other such noise. 

His thoughts were evidently not in the cellar, and 
Schweyer, who was a man of discretion, did not at- 
tempt to disturb his reflections. 

IVTatters went on in this way for three or four days. 
Every evening Fritz repaired as usual to the Great 
Stag to have his game of youkeVj but there his comrades 
remarked the same strange pre-occupation in his man- 
ner. He forgot sometimes to play when it came to 
his turn. 

‘‘ Come, Fritz, what are you thinking about ? It is 
your turn to play ! ” the great Frederick would exclaim. 

Then Fritz played at random, and naturally lost. 

“ I have no luck,” he would say to himself when 
returning home at night. As Schweyer had a good 
deal of work to do in his own yard he could only come 
to Fritz for two or three hours each day, in the morn- 
ing or evening, so that the business dragged on slowly, 
and at last was brought to an end in a singular manner. 

When broaching the steinherg the old cooper ex- 
pected that Kobus, as usual, would fill the goblet and 
hand it to him ; but Fritz, being in the absent mood 
we have described, totally forgot this important part 
of the ceremonial. 

Schweyer was indignant. 

“ He gives me a glass or two of his ordinary stufl*,” 
said he to himself; “but v.dicn he comes to a really 
superior wine he thinks it too good for me.” 

This reflection put him in a bad humor, and a few 
moments afterwards, Kobus happening to lot a fev 


F)iend Fritz, 


103 


drops of melted wax fall on his hands as he was stoop* 
ing down, his wi*ath burst forth — 

Mr. Kobus,” said he, rising, “ I believe you are 
gone mad ! J ust now, when you were singing the 
Miserere^ I didn’t like to say anything, although it 
was an affront to our holy religion, and especially to 
an old man of my age. It seemed as if you wei’e 
digging the grave underneath my feet. It was abom- 
inable conduct in you when you consider that I had 
done nothing to offend you. Besides, old age is not 
a crime ; every man wishes to live till he is old. 
You will grow old one day yourself, Mr. Kobus, 
probably, and then you will understand the affront 
you have put upon me. And now you drop your 
wax on my hands on purpose.” 

“ How ! on purpose ? exclaimed Fritz, stupefied. 

“ Yes, on purpose to get a laugh at me. You 
laugh at everything. You are longing to laugh now. 
But I can tell you I am not going to play jack- 
pudding for you or any man. It’s the last time you 
will find me working for a scoffer like you.” 

So saying, Schweyer took ofi* his apron, seized his 
auger, and hastened up the cellar steps. 

The true reason of his anger was neither the Mise- 
rere nor the drops of wax, it was Fritz’s forgetful- 
ness in the matter of the steinherg. 

Kobus, who did not want for acuteness, saw plain- 
ly enough the real cause of the old cooper’s anger, 
but this did n>t make him regret the less his awk- 
wardness and forgetfulness of old customs ; for in 
all parts of the world coopers have a right to a glass 


104 


Friend Fritz, 


of the wiae they are bottling, and if the master is 
present it is his duty to offer them one. 

‘‘ Where the deuce is my head gone of late ? ” said 
he to himself. I am everlastingly dreaming, and 
yawning, and thinking the time long. I want for 
nothing, and yet my thoughts go a- wool-gathering 
in a way that surprises me. I must really look 
sharp after myself.” 

However, as there was no way of getting Schweyer 
back, he was obliged to finish the bottling himself, 
and so the matter rested. 


OHAPTEK IJL. 


Every Tuesday and Friday morning, which were the 
market days, Kobus was in the habit of seating him- 
self with his pipe at the window, and gazing out at 
the housekeepers of Hunebourg treading their way 
with a busy air between the long rows of hampers, 
baskets, barrows, wooden stalls, crockery, and country 
carts, which were drawn up in the square of the Aca- 
cias. These were, so to speak, his gala days. All 
these noises, the thousand different attitudes of buyers 
and sellers debating the price of their commodities, the 
shouting and disputing, amused and delighted him 
more than you can imagine. 

If he happened to see some tempting article at a 
distance, he forthwith called Katel and said to her — 

‘‘ Do you see that string of larks or thrushes yonder ? 
Do you see that large reddish-colored hare on the 
third bench of the last row ? Go and take a look at 
them.” 

Katel hurried out, and Fritz sat watching the pro- 
gress of the bargain with great interest, and if he saw 
the old servant returning with the larks, the thrushes, 
or the hare, he rubbed his hands, exclaiming, “We 
have them ! ” 

Now one morning he was sitting there as we have 
described, but, contrary to his usual habit, in a dreamj 

5 * 


106 


Friend Fritz. 


mood, yawning behind his hand, and gazing absentia 
out of the window. Nothing excited his interest ; 
the general movement, the coming and going of the 
market people, seemed monotonous and uninteresting. 
From time to time he raised himself up, and giving 
a glance in the direction of the Furze Hill, wliicl) 
could be seen in the distance, he thought to himself, 
‘‘ How lovely the Meisenthal must be looking this 
morning ! ” 

Then a whole host of ideas passed through his mind. 
He heard the lowing of the oxen, he saw the little 
Suzel, in her bodice and short sleeves, with the wooden 
milk-pail in her hand, tripping gaily beneath the cart- 
shed and entering the cow-house, Mopsel following at 
her heels, and the old Anabaptist gravely climbing the 
hill-side. These recollections filled him with a sort of 
melancholy pleasure. 

“ The walls of the reservoir ought to be dry by this 
time,” thought he ; it will soon be time to put up the 
sluices.” 

At this moment, and as he was falling back into hia 
former mood of reverie, Katel entered. 

“ Sir,” said she, “ here is something I found in youi 
winter cape.” 

It was a piece of paper. He took it and opened it. 

“ Why, bless my soul,” said he, with a sort of 
emotion, the receipt for the beignets ! How could I 
have forgotten it for these three weeks ? Decidedly 
my brains are going wool-gatheiing ! ” And looking 
at the old servant, “ It is a receipt for making beignets 
— the most delicious beignets,” 'jxclaimed he, quiU 


Friend Fritz, 107 

finthusiastic at the recollection of them. ‘‘ Only 
guess, Katel, who gave me this receipt.” 

That tall Frentzel at the E-ed Cow.” 

Frentzel ! Stuff and nonsense ! Do you think 
she is capable of inventing anything, and more espe- 
cially beignets like these ? No, it was little Suzel, the 
daughter of the Anabaptist.” 

“ Oh,” said Katel, “ I’m not in the least surprised ; 
that little thing is just wonderful for her good sense 
and cleverness.” 

‘‘ Yes, she’s far beyond her years. You must make 
me some of these beignets, Katel. Be sure and fol- 
low the receipt exactly, or the whole thing will be 
spoiled.” 

“ Make your mind easy as to that, sir ; I shall take 
care that they are all right.” 

Katel left the room, and Fritz, carefully filling 
another pipe, resumed his place at the window. Every- 
thing had assumed a different aspect in his eyes — 
faces, gestures, conversation, the cries of buyers and 
sellers — it was as if a sudden burst of sunshine had 
irradiated the square. 

Then, still pursuing his reverie about the farm, he 
began to reflect that a town life was only really agree- 
able in winter, and that it was a good plan too to 
change one’s mode of living from time to time, for tho 
same dishes every day grow insipid in the long run. 
He remembered that the fi esh-laid eggs and delicate 
white cheese at the Anabaptist’s tasted nicer to him 
at breakfast than all the made dishes which Katel 
was in the habit of giving him. 


108 


Friend Fritz, 


“ If it wasn’t necessary for me, in some sort, to have 
my game of youker^ and drink my glass of ale, and 
meet David, Frederick Schoultz, and fat Haan of an 
evening,” said he to himself, ‘‘ I should like very well 
to spend six weeks or a couple of months every year 
at Meisenthal. But there’s no use in thinking of that 
— my amusements and business lie here. It’s a pity 
one cannot have all their enjoyments in the same 
place.” 

These thoughts were still running through his brain, 
whon, as eleven o’clock struck, the old servant entered 
to lay the table. 

“ "Well, Katel,” said he, turning round, ‘‘ what 
about my beignets ? ” 

“ You are quite right, sir, they are the nicest I have 
ever tasted.” 

“ Then you succeeded with them ? ” 

“ I followed the receipt, and that was sure to be 
right.” 

“ Shice they are a success,” said Kobus, every- 
thing should be in keeping ; I will go down into the 
cellar and get a bottle Qi for stheimer?'* 

He was leaving the room with his bunch of keys 
in his hand, when, a thought suddenly struck him. 

“ What about the receipt ? ” said he. 

“ I have it in my pocket, sir.” 

‘‘ Well, it must not be lost. Give it to me, and I 
will put it in my desk ; we may be glad of it some 
other time. 

And, unfolding the paper, he commenced to read 
it again. 


Fliend Fritz. 


109 


“ What a nice little hand she writes 1 ” said he. 
“ It’s as clear and sharp as copperplate ! Do you 
know she is an extraordinary little thing, tha* 
Suzel ! ” 

“Yes, sir, she is as sharp as a needle. If you 
heard her in the kitchen when she comes here with a 
message ! She has always something to say to make 
you laugh.” 

“ The deuce she has ! And I who thought her 
rather grave ! ” 

“ Grave 1 Oh, yes, very likely ! ” 

“ And what does she say, then ? ” asked Kobus, his 
broad features expanding with pleasure at the idea of 
the little thing being so gay. 

“ Oh, I could scarcely tell you. Why, in merely 
crossing the square she sees everything that goes on, 
and she can describe every one’s look and manner, but 
so drolly.” 

“ I’ll wager that she takes me off too,” exclaimed 
Fritz. 

“ Oh, as regards you, sir, never ; as for Frederick 
Schoultz, I don’t say, but you ” 

“ Ha ! ha ! ha ! ” interrupted Kobus ; “ so she makes 
fun of Schoultz ! She thinks him rather stupid, does 
she not ? ” 

“ Oh, no, not exactly that — I can’t quite recollect — 
you see ” 

“ Yes, Katel, yes, I understand,” said he, going off 
in high spirits. 

All the way downstairs the old servant heard him 
laughing heartily as he rej>eated — 


110 


Friend Fritz, 


“ That little Suzel is worth any money ! ” 

When he returned the table was laid and tie souj; 
served. He uncorked his bottle, tucked his napkin 
'beneath his chin with an air of profound satisfaction, 
turned up his cuffs, and dined with a hearty appetite 
Katel made her appearance with the beignets before 
the dessert. 

Then filling his glass, he said — 

“ Now we shall see what they are like.” 

The old housekeeper remained standing beside the 
table to hear his opinion. He took a beignet and 
tasted it, at first without saying a word, then another, 
then a third; at last, turning round, he pronounced 
these words gravely and deliberately — 

The beignets are excellent, Katel ; most excellent. 
It is easy to see that you have followed the receipt as 
closely as possible, h nd yet, mark you this — I don’t 
mean to find fault — but those at the farm were better. 
They had something finer and more delicate about them 
— a sort of peculiar perfume,” added he, raising his 
finger impressively ; ‘‘ I can’t exactly explain it to you. 
They were not so rich, perhaps, but more agreeable tc 
the taste.” 

‘‘ Perhaps I put too much cinnamon in ? ” 

“ No, as regards that they are very well indeed ; but 
that little Suzel, do you see, has a sort of genius for 
beignets, just as you have a genius for turkey stuffed 
with chestnuts.” 

It’s quite possible, sir.” 

“ It’s certain. I would be quite wrong if I said 
these beignets are not delicious, but above and beyonc’ 


FHend Fritz. 


Ill 


excelleiLce of this kind there is what Professor Speck 
calls the ‘ ideal ; ’ that means something poetical 
something ” 

‘‘ Yes, sir, I understand,” said Katel, “ like Mothei 
H^fen’s sausages, which nobody could make like her, 
from not knowing to put in three cloves.” 

“ No, that’s not what I mean — there was nothing 
wanting — and yet ” 

He was going to explain himself more fully, when 
the door opened and the rabbi entered. 

“ Ah, David, is that you ? ” exclaimed he. ‘‘ Come 
here and explain to Katel what we understand by the 
word ‘ ideal.’ ” 

At these words David knit his brows, 

“ Are you making fun of me ? ” said he. 

“ No, I am quite serious ; tell Katel why your 
tribes regretted the flesh-pots of Egypt so much, 
and ” 

“ Listen, Kobus,” exclaimed the old rabbi. “ No 
sooner do I set my foot inside your door than you 
attack me on sacred subjects ; it’s very unhandsome 
conduct of you.” 

Ydu take up everything wrong, you old posclie- 
Israel. Sit down, and since you don’t like to speak 
of the flesh-pots of Egypt, we’ll say no more about 
thorn. But if you were not a Jew ” 

‘‘ Oh ! I see plainly enough you want to drive me 
away.” 

“ Not at all. I merely say that if you were not a 
Jew you could eat some of these beignets, and wouH 
be forced to acknowledge that they are a thousand 


112 


Ft'iend Fritz, 


times better than all the onions and carrots you used 
to lament after ” 

“ Oh, this ends the matter — I shall go at once. 
This is really too much ! ” 

Katel left the room, and Kobus, holding the old 
rabbi by the sleeve, added — 

“ Come, come ! What the deuce ? Sit down ! I 
tell you I am really sorry.” 

« What for?” 

‘‘ That you can’t take a glass of wine with me and 
taste these beignets — they are something extraordi- 
nary ! ” 

David’s features relaxed into a smile, and he seated 
himself as requested. 

“ You invented them yourself, I suppose,” said he ; 
“ you are always making discoveries of this kind.” 

“No, rabbi, no. It was neither Katel nor I. 1 
should feel proud to have invented these beignets, but 
let us give honor where it is due ; the credit belongs 
to little Suzel — you know, the daughter of the Ana- 
baptist.” 

“ Oh, indeed ! ” said the old rabbi, fixing his grey 
eyes on Kobus ; “ and so you think them so very 
good ! ” 

“ Delicious, David ! ” 

“ lie, he, he ! Yes, yes; that little thing has clever- 
ness enough for anything — even to gratify the palate 
of an old gourmand like you.” Then, changing his 
tone, “ That little Suzel pleased me from the first mo- 
ment I saw her. In three or four years she will know 
how to cook as well as your old Katel. When she 


Friend Fritz. 


113 


marries, depend upon it she will lead her husband by 
the nose, and if he is a man of any sense he will ac- 
knowledge that it was the best thing that could have 
happened to him.” 

“ Ha, ha, ha ! This time, David, I fully agree with 
you,” said Kobus, “you haven’t said a word too much 
for her. It’s astonishing when you think that Fa- 
ther Christel and Mother Orchel, who haven’t four 
ideas in their heads, should have brought such a charm- 
ing little thing into the world. Do you know that 
she luanages the whole farmhouse already ? ” 

“ What did I tell you ? ” exclaimed David. “ I 
was certain of it ! Look you, Kobus, when a woman 
has sense and judgment, and isn’t vain or boastful of 
it, when she doesn’t try to lower her husband in order 
to raise herself at his expense, she makes herself mis- 
tress in the house at once, and every one is proud, as 
it were, to obey her.” 

As- he said this some unexplained idea passed through 
Fritz’s mind. He observed the old rabbi with the 
corner of his eye, and said — 

“ She makes beignets very well, but as for anything 
else ” 

“And I say again,” exclaimed David, “that she 
will make the honest farmer that marries her as happy 
as a king — ay, and that farmer will become rich as well 
as happy ! From the first moment that I began to 
study women — and that’s a good while ago — I think 
I understood them. I know at once what they are 
and what they are worth, and what they will be and 
what they will be worth. Well, that little Suze? 


114 


Ft lend Fritz. 


pleased me from the first, and I am right glad to heai 
that she makes beignets so well.” 

Fritz had become thoughtful. All at once he 
asked — 

“ But tell mQ, posche-Israel, why have you come U 
see me to-day so early ? It isn’t your usual hour.” 

“ Ah, true ! I want you to lend me two hundred 
florins.” 

“ Two hundred florins ! Oh, oh ! ” said Kobus, 
with a half-serious, half-jesting air, ‘‘ in a lump, 
rabbi?” 

In a lump.” 

And for yourself ? ” 

“ Well, for myself, if you like, for I engage to repay 
you the amount ; but it is to do a service to another.” 

To whom, David ? ” 

“ You know old Hertzberg, the pedlar ; well, his 
daughter is asked in marriage by young Salomon — two 
fine young people,” added the old rabbi, clasping his 
hands with an air of deep feeling, “ only, you under- 
stand, a little portion is necessary, and Hertzberg 
came to me ” 

‘‘ So you will be the same man to the end of the 
chap'^er ? ” interrupted Fritz. Not content with 
your own debts you must always be taking other 
men’s on your shoulders ? ” 

“ Kobus ! Kobus ! ” exclaimed David, in a 
piercing and pathetic voice, his hooked nose curving 
and his eyes turned towards the ground in a squint 
with the excess of his emotion, if you only saw the 
dear children ! How could any one refuse them the 


Friend Fritz, 


115 


meanb of becoming happy? And, besides, Father 
Hertzberg is well-to-do, and will pay me in a year or 
two at farthest.” 

“ Well, as you wish it,” said, Fritz rising, ‘‘ you 
shall have the money ; but mark me, you must pay 
me five per cent, interest this time. I am quite will- 
ing to lend you money yourself without interest, but 
as regards others ” 

“ Why, bless my heart, who thought of anything 
else ? ” said David. “ Only let us make the young 
people happy ! The father will repay me the five per 
cent.” 

Fritz opened his secretary and counted out two 
hundred florins on the table, whilst the old rabbi 
stood looking at him impatiently. Then he brought 
out a writing-case, with paper, pen, and ink, and 
said — 

“ Come, David, see that the amount is correct.” 

‘‘ It’s quite unnecessary ; I saw you counting it ; 
it’s perfectly right.” 

“ No, no ; count it yourself ! ” 

Then the old rabbi reckoned up the money, stuffing 
each pile in his pocket with evident satisfaction. 

“ Now sit down and give me your note of hand for 
the amount, with five per cent, interest, and remem- 
ber, if you turn crusty at any of my jokes, I can lead 
you a pretty dance with that scrap of paper.” 

David, radiant with happiness, began to write. Fritz 
looked over his shoulder, and seeing him just about 
to note down the rate of interest — 

“ Halt there,” said he, ‘‘ old posche-Israely halt ! ” 


116 


Friend Fritz. 


‘‘ Do you want six ? ” 

‘‘ Neither six nor five. Are we not old friends f 
You don’t understand a joke, man. One must al- 
ways be as cautious with you as with an ass going to 
be curried.” 

The old rabbi rose from his chair, gi'asped him by 
the hand, and said, evidently much touched at his 
kindness — 

‘‘ Thanks, Kobus.” 

“ What a good old fellow he is ! ” said Kobus to 
himself, looking after the rabbi as he hastened along 
the street, with stooped back and his hand clapped on 
his pocket; ‘‘there he is, hurrying ofi* to that man’s 
house as if it was his own happiness that was at 
stake. When he sees two young folks happy the tears 
come into his eyes with delight.” 

With this reflection he took his cane, and went out 
to read his newspaper at the Stag. 


CHAPTER X 


Two or three days after this, the conversation one 
evening at the Casino happened to turn on bygone 
times. The fat collector Haan sang the praises of 
the manners and customs of former days ; the sleigh- 
drives in winter, when good papa Christian, in his 
great overcoat lined with fox-skin, his huge boots 
padded with sheep’s wool, his otter-skin cap pulled 
down over his ears, and his gloves reaching up to his 
elbows, drove all his family to the top of the Roth- 
alp to admire the woods covered with hoar frost. 
Then the public promenades, with young fellows 
prancing along on horseback, and casting side-looks of 
admiration at the groups of lovely girls, wrapped in 
their fur mantles, their pretty little noses, all rosy 
with exercise, buried in their boas of swansdown, as 
white as the driven snow. 

“ Ah ! the good old times ! ” said he. “ And then, 
soon after, the whole town would learn that the 
young counsellor Lobstein, or Mr. Notary Muntz, was 
betrothed to tho young Lotchen, the handsome Rosa, 
or the tall and elegant Wilhelmina. Thus it was 
that love took its rise amidst the snows of winter and 
under the very eye of the parents. At other tiiaes 
people met in the great public ball-room, where every 
OBe was wel comet All ranks were represented — th# 


118 


Friend Fi'itz. 


nobles, the merchants, the people. No one asked if 
you were a count or a baron, but only if you were a 
good waltzer. Just try if you can find anything like 
that in the present day ! They have made so many 
new nobles of late that these men are afraid you will 
confound them with the populace.” 

Haan also praised the family concerts, the sim])le 
and elegant chamber music of olden time, for which 
we have substituted in our day the crash of overtures 
or the gloomy strains of the symphony. 

To hear him describe it you could imagine you saw 
the old counsellor Baumgarten, in powdered wig and 
large square-skirted coat, his violoncello supported 
against his leg, and his bow proudly bestriding the 
strings; and Mademoiselle Seraphia Schmidt seated 
at the spinet, between the two candelabra; the vio- 
lins stationed all around, leaning over with their eyes 
fixed on the score, and behind, the circle of friends 
listening in the shadow. 

These reminiscences touched and delighted every 
one, and even the tall Schoultz, balancing himself on 
the hind-legs of his chair, clasping one of his long 
bony knees between his hands, and fixing his eyes on 
the ceiling, exclaimed — 

‘‘ Yes, yes, these times are a long way from us ! It 
is too true, we are growing old ! What memories 
you recall, Haan, what delightful memories ! Ah ! 
these things make old men of us.” 

On his way home through the Rue des Capucins 
Kobus’s head was full of the images Haan had called up. 

“He is right,” said he to himself; “we have all 


Friend Fritz. 


119 


seen these things, and yet they seem now as if they 
were a century distant from us.” Looking up at the 
stars, which were twinkling in the boundless expanse, 
he thought — ‘‘ All there is sure and fixed, all these 
stars come round again to the same places at their ap- 
pointed time — it is only we that change. What a 
terrible idea it is to think that we are changing a little 
every day without perceiving it ! So that, in the long 
run, we all grow grey and wrinkled, and produce the 
same eflfect on the rising generation that these old 
shrivelled spinsters and antiquated beaux, that Hans 
was just now describing, do upon us. Do what we 
will all this will happen to us as it has to others.” 

Meditating thus, Fritz retired to rest, but even 
after he had got into bed these ideas haunted him for 
some time, until at last he fell asleep. * 

The next morning he was thinking no more about 
them, when his eyes chanced to fall on the old spinet, 
which stood between the sideboard and the door. It 
was a small old-fashioned piece of furniture, made of 
rosewood, with meagre-looking legs, terminating in 
pear-shaped knobs, and containing only five octaves. 
For thirty years it had never once been moved from its 
place. Katel used to put her dishes and plates on be- 
fore dinner, and Kobus threw his coat and hat there 
when he came in from walking. From the habit of 
seeing it every day in the same place he had ceased 
pay any attention to it, but now it seemed as if he had 
just met it for the first time after along absence. He 
dressed himself in an absent mood, then going to t he 
window, he saw Kate! in the market place making her 


120 


Friend Fritz. 


purchases for dinuer. Immediately he approached the 
spinet, opened it, and ran his fingers over the yellow 
ivory keys. As the first feeble notes issued from the 
little instrument, the kind-hearted Kobus was carried 
back in a second over the thirty years which had 
passed since he first heard it. He remembered Mrs. 
Kobus, his mother, still a young woman, although thin 
and pale, playing on this spinet; Mr. Kobus, the jus- 
tice of the peace, sitting beside her, his three-cornered 
hat hung on the arm of his chair, listening, and he 
himself, Fritz, quite a little fellow, sitting on the floor, 
playing with his wooden horse, and crying ‘‘ Gee ! 
woa ! ” whilst his kind old father raised his forefinger 
with a warning gesture, and said Hush ! ” All this 
passed before his eyes, and much more too. 

He seated himself at the instrument, and tried a 
few old airs ; then he played the Troubadour^ and the 
ancient romance of the Crusader. 

“ I didn’t think I could have remembered a single 
note,” said he to himself. ‘‘ It is astonishing how this 
old spinet has kept in tune. It seems as if it was only 
yesterday since I heard it.” 

And, stooping down, he began to take the old music- 
books from their stand : — The Battle of Prague^ airs 
from Cenerentola, the overture to Vestale^ besides sev- 
eral old love romances, light and gay, but always about 
love — the love that laughs and the love that weeps — 
nothing more and nothing less ! 

A few months before Kobus would not have failed 
to make very merry over these Celias with pink top- 
knots, these Arthurs with their raven plumes. He 


Friend Fritz. 


121 


had read ’Wertlier a long time ago, and was ready to 
expire with laughter during the whole of that senti- 
mental history, but now he thought it all very touch 
ing and beautiful. 

‘‘ Haan was right,” said he to himself ; “ they don’t 
write such sweet couplets in the present day : — 

“ ‘ Chloe, lovely maid, 

To you my heart has strayed 1 
For you I pine and die 1 * 

How simple and natural ! 

“ ‘ To you my heart has strayed 1 * 

Yes, I call that true poetry — so profound, and yet so 
simple and artless. And then the music ! ” 

And he began to sing, to the accompaniment of the 
spinet : — 


“ ‘ Chloe, lovely maid, 

To you my heart has strayed 1 
For you I pine and die I ’ ” 

It seemed as if he would never tire of repeating the 
words of the old romance, and he had been singing 
and playing the same thing for full twenty minutes; 
when a slight sound was heard at the door, as of some 
one tapping. 

‘‘ It must be David,” thought he, closing the spinet 
hastily ; ‘‘ how he would laugh if he heard me singing 
CA/oe/” 


122 


Friend Fritz. 


He waited for an instant, and finding that no one 
entered, he went himself to open the door. 3>nt you 
may judge of his surprise on finding the little Suzel 
standing there, all blushing and timid, with her little 
white hood and sky-blue tippet, and her basket on her 
arm. 

“ Why, Suzel ! is it possible it can be you ? ” said 
he, looking enchanted. 

“ Yes, Mr. Kobus,” said the little thing ; “ I have 
been waiting for a long time in the kitchen for Mrs. 
Katel, but as she has not come I thought it better to 
give my message before I left.” 

“ What message do you mean, Suzel ? ” 

“ My father sent me to tell you that the sluices have 
come, and that they are only waiting for you to put 
them up.” 

“ What ! did he send you expressly for that ? ” 

“ Oh ! I was also to tell the Jew Schmoule that he 
was to come for the oxen if he did not want to pay for 
their feeding.” 

“ Ah ! then the oxen are sold ? ” 

“ Yes, Mr. Kobus ; for three hundred and fifty 
florins.” 

“ That’s a good price. But come in, Suzel ; you 
should not stand on ceremony.” 

• ‘‘ Oh ! I am not standing on ceremony.” 

“ Yes, yes, I see plainly you are, or you would have 
come in at once. See, sit down there.” 

He placed a chair for her, and opened the 
spinet again, with an air of extraordinary anima* 
tion. 


Friend Fritz. 


123 


“ And how are you all at the farm ? Are Father 
Christel and Mother Orchel quite well ? ” 

‘‘ Every one is quite well, Mr. Kobus, thank God. 
We should be very glad if you could come to us.” 

“ Oh ! I shall certainly come, Suzel. To-morrow 
or next day I shall be sure to be with you.” 

Fritz felt a great desire to play before Suzel. He 
looked at her smilingly, and at last he said — 

‘‘ I was just now playing some old airs and singing. 
You heard me, perhaps, from the kitchen. They 
made you laugh, didn’t they ? ” 

“ Oh ! no, Mr. Kobus ; on the contraiy, it made 
me quite sad. Beautiful music always makes me sad. 
I didn’t know who was playing such beautiful airs.” 

“ Stay,” said Fritz, “ I will play you something 
lively to amuse you. 

He was delighted to have an opportunity of display- 
ing his powers before Suzel, and commenced the Heine 
de Prusse. His fingers bounded from one end of the 
spinet to the other, he beat time with his foot, and 
gave a glance from time to time at the little thing in 
the mirror opposite, primming in his Kps as people do 
when they are afraid of playing a false note. One 
would have thought he was performing before the 
whole town. Suzel, on her side, sat with her great 
blue eyes wide open with admiration, and her little 
rosy lips apart, in a sort of ecstasy. Then, when 
Kobus had finished the waltz, and turned round, 
highly pleased with his performance — 

‘‘ Oh ! how beautiful ! ” said she in a low voice 
“ how beautiful ! ” 


124 


FHmd Fritz. 


“ Oh ! that is nothing. You should hear the Fat 
Ue of Prague. You can hear the roar of the cannons. 
Just listen ! ” 

And he commenced to play the Fatde of Prague 
with extraordinary enthusiasm. The old spinet 
groaned and shook to its inmost centre. And when 
Kobus heard the little Suzel sighing and repeating in 
a low voice, “ How beautiful ! ” it gave him an ardor 
— oh ! such an ardor which cannot be described. 
He was beside himself with happiness. 

After the Battle of Prague^ he played the airs from 
Cenerentola y after the Cenerentola^ the grand over- 
ture to Festale / and then, as he did not know what 
else to play, and as Suzel kept repeating, “ Oh ! how 
beautiful ! what lovely music you play, Mr. Kobus ! ” 
he said — 

“ Yes, it is rather pretty, but if I hadn’t a cold I 
would sing something for you, and then you should 
see, Suzel. But no matter. I’ll try it all the same ; 
only it’s a pity I have such a cold.” 

And so saying, he commenced to sing in a voice as 
clear as the crowing of a cock on a summer morning — 

“ ‘ Chloe, lovely maid, 

To you my heart has strayed 1 
For you I pine and die !’ ” 

He swayed his head gently from side to side, openea 
his mouth from ear to ear, and every time he came to 
the end of a verse he kept repeating for half an hour, 
in a piteous voice, leaning back in his chair with his 


Friend Fritz. 


125 


nose in tlie air, and writhing from side to side like a 
man under the torture — 

“ ‘ Chloe, lovely maid, 

For you I pine and die, 

I pine — I pine — I die 1 
Idie— Idie— Idiel”* 

until at last the drops of perspiration were running 
down his face. Suzel, blushing to the ears and seem- 
ing quite ashamed at having such a song as it were 
addressed to her, sat with her head bent forward, ap- 
parently unable to look up ; and Kobus, looking 
round to hear her say as usual, ‘‘ How beautiful ! oh, 
how beautiful ! ” saw her sitting thus, sighing softly 
from time to time, with her eyes cast down, and her 
hands resting in her lap. 

Then, suddenly glancing at himself in the mirror, 
he saw that he was blushing furiously, and not know- 
ing what to do in such an extraordinary position of 
alfairs, he ran his fingers over the keys from top to 
bottom of the spinet, puffing out his cheeks and ex- 
claiming, ‘‘ Prrouh ! prrouh ! ” his hair standing on 
end with confusion and alarm. 

At this instant Katel returned, and closed the 
kitchen door behind her. He heard the sound, and 
starting up, began to shout, “ Katel ! Katel ! ” in the 
tone of a man who feels himself drowning. 

Katel entered. 

“ Ah, very good,” said he ; ‘‘here is Suzel who has 
been waiting for you for the last hour.” And as 
Suzel looked up at him timidly with her large soft 


126 


Friend Fritz. 


eyes, he added — “ Yes, we were having a little mnsit 
— a few old airs — not worth a straw — however, I did 
as well as I could — you can’t make a silk purse out of 
a sow’s ear.” 

Suzel had taken up her basket, and now left th 
room with Katel, saying as she went, “ Good-bye, 
Mr. Kobus ! ” in so soft a voice that he couldn’t find 
a word to say in reply, but stood for a minute as if 
rooted to the floor, gazing after her in a frightened 
sort of a way. At last he got strength to mutter — 

‘‘ A nice business this, Kobus ! You have been 
distinguishing yourself finely on that old hurdy- 
gurdy. Yes, yes, very nice conduct — you may be 
proud of yourself — it looks well at your age. The 
deuce take the music ! If any one ever catches me 
playing even a jig tune again he may wring my neck 
about ! ” 

And seizing his hat and cane, without waiting for 
breakfast, he went off* to take a turn on the ramparts, 
in order to reflect more at his ease on the surprising 
events that had just taken place. 


CHAPTER XI. 


You may imagine the reflections that passed througl. 
Fritz’s mind on the ramparts. He walked up and 
down behind the Manutention, with his head bent 
dowD, and his cane under his arm, looking to the right 
and left to see if any one was coming. It seemed to 
him as if every one must discover his state of mind 
at the first glance. 

“ An old fellow of thirty-six in love with a little 
girl of seventeen — what a ridiculous idea ! ” said he 
to himself. “ So this was the reason, Fritz, of all 
your ennuiy your absence of mind, and your reveries 
for the last three weeks. This was the reason you al- 
ways lost at the Stag ; this is why you acted like a 
fool in the cellar ; this is the cause of your yawning 
at the window like an ass, when looking out at the 
people in the market-place. Would any one believe 
that a man could be so stupid at your age ? Why, if 
it was even the widow Windling or that great Salome 
Roedig that you were in love with, it wouldn’t be so 
bad. It would be better a thousand times to hang 
yourself than marry either of them, but at least such 
a marriage would look reasonable in the eyes of the 
neighbors. But to fa.! in love with the little Suzel, the 
daughter of your own farm-manager, a child, a mere 
child, who is neither of your own rank nor condition, 


128 


Friend Fritz. 


and to wliom yon are old enough to be a father, ia 
really too bad. It is absolutely contrary to nature — it 
hasn’t a shadow of common sense. If any one unfor- 
tunately should suspect it, you couldn’t venture to 
show your face at the Stag, or the Casino, or anywhere. 
Then the people would turn the laugh nicely against 
you, Fritz, you who have so often laughed at others. 
It would be the abomination of desolation. Old David 
himself, in spite of his love of marriage, would laugh 
in your face. Good gracious, what fables and stories 
he would make about you ! 

‘‘ It’s a great comfort, however, that not a soul knows 
anything about it, and that you perceive the thing in 
time. The evil must be stopped at once, the hurtful 
weed must be rooted out of the garden. You may be 
a little low for a day or two, perhaps, but your good 
sense will soon enable you to get over it. A glass of 
good* old wine will cheer you up ; you will give dinners 
and take a drive round the neighborhood now and then 
in Haan’s carriage. And, by-the-bye, it was only the 
day before yesterday that he asked me for the hun- 
dredth time to accompany him on his round of collec- 
tion. That’s the very thing; we will chat, laugh, and 
enjoy ourselves, and in a fortnight, I shall forget the 
whole affair.” 

Just then the two hussars appeared in view, arm-in- 
arm with their sweethearts. Kobus saw them at a 
distance approaching along the bastion of the hospital, 
and turned down the Rue des Ferrailles in order to 
reach his own house. 

“The first thing I will do,” said he, “ is to write to 


Friend Fritz. 


129 


Father Christel to put up the sluiies, and fill the res* 
3rvoir himself. When any one catches me returning 
to the Meisenthal there will be two moons in the sky, 
that’s all.” 

When he got back Katel was laying the table. Su- 
zel had been gone for a considerable time, Fritz 
opened his secretary, and wrote to Father Christel that 
he could not pay him his promised visit, and that they 
must manage to put up the sluices without him ; then, 
after sealing his letter, he seated himself at table and 
dined in silence. 

After dinner he went out again, towards one o’clock, 
and called on Haan, who lived in the Stork hotel, op- 
posite the market-place. Haan was in his little office, 
which smelt awfully of tobacco, and, pipe in his mouth, 
was packing away several large registers bound in calf- 
skin in a leather portmanteau. His clerk Gaysse was 
helping him. 

“ Hallo, Kobus ! ” exclaimed he, ‘‘ what on earth 
bi-ings you here? It’s seldom I see you at my 
office.” 

“ You mentioned the day before yesterday that you 
were just about starting on one of your rounds,” re- 
plied Fritz, seating himself at a corner of the table. 

‘‘Yes, to-morrow morning at five o’clock ; the car- 
riage is ordered. See here, I have just been packing 
up some clothes and my account-books. I shall be 
away for seven or eight days.” 

“ Well, I will accompany you, if you will allow me. ' 

“ You will accompany me ? ” exclaimed Haan joy- 
fully, striking his fat hand on the table. “ So at long 
6 * 


130 


Friend Frit2 


and last you have made up your mind to go with me ? 
That’s capital ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! ” 

And, quite enthusiastic at the idea, he threw his 
little black silk skull-cap on the table, and began to 
run his fingers through the scanty locks which fringed 
his great head, exclaiming over and over again — 

“ It’s a capital idea, a right good idea — we shall 
have a jolly time of it ! ” 

‘‘Yes; the weather seems likely to be fine,” sail 
Fritz. 

“ Magnificent weather,” exclaimed Haan, drawing 
the curtains aside behind his arm-chair ; “ absolutely 
splendid weather ; we haven’t seen anything like it for 
the last ten years. We’ll set out to-morrow morning 
at daybreak ; we’ll scour the country — that’s decided. 
Mind you don’t draw back again ! ” 

“ You needn’t be in the least afraid.” 

“ By Jove ! ” exclaimed the stout collector, “ you 
couldn’t possibly have given me a greater pleasure. 
Gaysse ! Gaysse ! ” 

“ Sir ! ” 

“ My great-coat ! Here, hang my dressing-gown 
behind the door. You will lock the office and give the 
key to Mother Lehr. You are going to the Stag, are 
you not, Kobus ? ” 

“Yes, I was going to have a glass of beer. We 
shan’t find any good beer in the country, I’m afraid.” 

“ Why not ? At Hackmatt it is very good.” 

“Then you have no more preparations to make, 
Haan?” 

“ No ; everything is ready. Ah ! by- the- bye, hadn’t 


Friend Fritz, 


131 


jou better put a few shirts and one or two pairs of 
stockings in my portmanteau ? ” 

‘‘ I shall take one of my own.” 

‘‘Well, let’s go ! ” exclaimed Haan, taking his arm 
They left the office, and the fat collector began tc 
enumerate the different villages which they would 
visit both in the plains and in the mountain district. 

“ In the plains, at Hackmatt, Mittelbronn, and liix- 
heim, the whole country is Protestant, and the people 
rich and prosperous — good houses, good wine, good 
cookery, and good beds. We shall feel like cows in 
clover for the first six days. No difficulty in collection, 
the king’s taxes are ready beforehand. It’s only at the 
end of our journey that we get into a wild corner of the 
country, the Wildland, a sort of desert, where you see 
nothing but crucifixes at all the cross-roads, and where 
the travellers have faces as long as my arm. But don’t 
fear, we shan’t die of hunger for all that.” 

Fritz laughed as he listened to Haan’s description, 
and in this way they entered the brewery of the Stag. 
There matters went on as usual ; they drank their beer, 
they played cards, and towards seven o’clock every one 
returned home for supper. 

In passing through the hall, Kobus stopped at the 
kitchen-door as usual to see what Katel was preparing 
for him. The old servant was sitting by the fireside 
on a wooden stool, with a coarse cloth over her knees, 
busy greasing his heavy walking shoes. 

“ What is that you are doing ? ” said he. 

“ I am greasing your strong shoes for the farm ; you 
"laid you would be going to-morrow or next day.” 


132 


Friend Fritz, 


“ You needn’t mind them ! ” said Fritz, ‘‘ 1 am not 
going. I have other business to look after.” 

‘‘You are not going, sir!” said Katel, quite sur- 
prised. “ I’ll warrant Father Christel, Suzel, and 
every one will be sadly disappointed ! ” 

“ Nonsense ! They have done without me up to the 
present, and I trust with the help of God they will be 
able to get on without me in future. I am going with 
Haan on his tour of collection, to help him to settle 
some accounts ; and, now that I remember it, there is 
a letter on the mantel-piece for Christel ; you can send 
little Yeri with it to-morrow. In the meantime you 
had better put thiree or four shirts, and whatever 
you think I shall require for a few days, in my 
valise.” 

“ Yery good, sir.” 

Kobus entered the dining-room, very proud of his 
resolution, and, having supped with a tolerably good 
appetite, retired to rest, in order to be ready for a very 
early start in the morning. 

It was barely five o’clock next morning, and the sun 
was just beginning to emerge from the heavy bank 
of vapors, which rested over the Losser, when Fritz 
Kobus and his friend Haan, seated comfortably in an 
old-fashioned char-^-banc made of basket-work, passed 
through the Hildebrandt gate at a rapid trot, and 
rolled along the road leading from Hunebourg to 
Michel sberg. 

Haan had on his great beaver coat and his fox-skin 
cap, with the tail hanging down his back, while Kobus 
wore his handsome blue cloth cape, his green-and-red 


Friend Fritz. 133 

<.hecktd velvet waistcoat, and his broad-brimmed felt 
hat. 

Some old women, theii besoms in their hands, 
looked after them as they passed, and said to each 
.>ther — 

“ Those two are going to collect the village money ; 
that’s a sign we must be getting our little penny ready 
The door and window tax will be coming soon. What 
a robber that Haan is ! Just to think that all the 
world must work their fingers to the bone for him, 
and that he’s never satisfied, and that the gendarmes 
support him ! ” Then they resumed their sweeping in 
a veiy bad humor. 

Once beyond the advanced works, Haan and Kobus 
found themselves surrounded by the dense mists of the 
river. 

“ It’s jolly cold this morning, I can tell you,” said 
Fritz. 

‘‘ Ha ha ! ha ! ” replied Haan, cracking his whip ; 
‘‘ I warned you well about that yesterday. You should 
have put on your thick woollen vest. Stretch your- 
self down among the straw, old fellow, as low as you 
can. Hi ! Fox, hi ! ” 

“ I think I’ll smoke a pipe,” said Kobus, ‘‘ that will 
warm me.” He struck a light, took his great porce- 
lain pipe out of a side pocket, and began to smoko 
with great gravity. 

The horse, a tall gaunt Mecklenbourg, trotted along 
with his four feet in the air, and the trees and hedges 
flew past like the wind. Haan, putting his whip in a 
corner neai* his elbow, began to smoke too, in a reflec* 


134 


Friend Fritz. 


iiive way, as jjeople do in a mist when they can’t see 
the objects around them clearly. 

The copper-colored sun could scarcely pierce through 
the dense fog ; the Losser grumbled behind the fence 
which bordered the road; its waters were white as 
milk, and, notwithstanding the low murmur of the 
current, it seemed to sleep beneath the gigantic willows 
that overhung it. 

At times, as the carriage dashed on, a kingfisher 
uttered its piercing cry and flew oflf, theu a lark began 
to warble a few notes. On looking closely you could 
see his grey wings fluttering upwards in a spiral direc- 
tion at a few feet from the ground, but in a second or 
two he dropped down again, and no sound was to be 
heard but the murmur of the river and the rustling 
of the poplars by the roadside. 

Kobus felt as happy as a king. He never ceased 
congratulating himself on the heroic resolution he had 
taken to fly from Suzel, and his conduct seemed to him 
the perfection of human wisdom. 

‘‘ How many men,” thought he, “ would have been 
lulled to slumber amidst those garlands of roses which 
were closing closer and closer around you, and which 
would have ended by turning into stout cords such as 
the virtuous Delilah bound Sampson with. Yes, yes, 
Kobus, you may be thankful for your good luck. Here 
you are once more as free as the biid of the air, and 
to the end of time, till you are sinking into the bosom 
of old age, you will celebrate your flight from Hune- 
bourg as the Mahometans do the Hegira. Old Sichel 
himself will be lost in admiration of your prudence.” 


Friend Fritz. 


135 


All these reflections, and a thousand others not less 
judicious, passed through Fritz’s mind. He thought 
himself completely out of danger, and breathed the 
fresh spring air with a delightful feeling of security. 
Alas ! alas ! for human prudence ! 

At Steinbach, near the great flour-mill, they met a 
christening procession on its way to the church of St. 
Blaise ; the little rosy infant on a white cushion, the 
nurse in great state, with her immense lace cap, and the 
rest of the party as gay as larks. At Hoheim, an old 
couple were celebrating the fiftieth anniversary of 
their marriage. They were dancing in a meadow, sur- 
rounded by the whole village. The musician, mounted 
on a barrel, was blowing his clarionet, his great red 
cheeks puffed out nearly to his ears, his nose purple 
with exertion, and his eyes starting out of his head. All 
were drinking and laughing ; the wine, the beer, the 
kirschenwdsser was flowing on every side ; every one 
was beating time. The two old folks, with their arms 
in the air, were waltzing round with faces beaming 
with delight, and the little urchins, thronging about 
them, uttered shouts of joy which pierced the skies. 
At Frankenthal, a marriage party were ascending the 
steps of the church, the groomsman leading the way, 
with a bouquet as large as a cabbage fastened on his 
breast; then the young couple, all tenderness and 
timidity, the old papas chuckling together, and the 
stout mammas radiant with satisfaction. 

It was wonderful to see all these things, which fur- 
nished more food for reflection than you can web 
imagine, 


136 


Friend Fritz, 


Elsewhere young lads and lasses, of fifteen or sixteen, 
were gathering violets in the hedge-rows or by the 
roadside, and one could see by the light in their eyes 
that they would be lovers before long. At another 
place it was a conscript, who was being accompanied 
along the road by his betrothed, a little bundle under 
his aim. You could hear them as you passed vowing 
to be true to each other till death. Always, always 
the same old love story, under a thousand different 
forms. You would have said some malicious sprite 
was bent on plaguing our friend Fritz. 

It was just that spring-time of the year when hearts 
begin to stir, when all nature starts into renewed exis- 
tence, when life assumes a fresh charm, when every- 
thing invites us to be happy, and when Heaven seems 
to promise unnumbered blessings to those who love 
and are beloved. Everywhere Kobus met some spec- 
tacle of this description to remind him of Suzel, and 
every time he did so he blushed, grew thoughtful, 
scratched his ear, and sighed. He kept saying to 
himself, ‘‘ What asses people are to get married ! The 
more people travel the more they’re convinced that 
three-fourths of mankind are totally devoid of reason, 
and that in every locality there are only some five or 
six old bachelors who have retained an atom of sense. 
Yes, it is too frue, wisdom is not to be looked for 
fi )m the miiltitude ; one ought to congratulate him- 
self, on being of the small number of the elect in this 
matter.” 

Whenever they arrived at a village, Haan imme- 
diately set about makii.g his collection, receiving the 


Friend' Fritz, 


137 


king’s taxes and giving receipts, and mean while Kobus 
wearied himself to death. His reveries about Suzel 
increased, and at last, to distract his thoughts, he left 
the inn and walked along the principal street, gazing 
right and left at the old houses with their carved 
beams, their outside staircases, their decayed wooden 
galleries, their ivy-covered gables, their little gardens 
inclosed with palisades, and their fowl-yards — all nest- 
ling under the immense horse-chestnuts, with their 
bright green foliage, which towered overhead. The 
^atmosphere dazzling with light, the lanes swarming 
with crowds of hens and ducks, cackling and dabbling 
in the muddy pools, the little windows with their dia- 
mond-shaped panes, dimmed with dust and age, the 
swallows building their mud-nests at the angles of the 
windows and then shooting away like arrows across 
the blue sky, the troops of flaxen haired, blue-eyed 
children cracking their whips and playing at coach-and- 
horses, the old women seated in the recesses of their 
dark little kitchens with the dilapidated steps, and 
looking on with a benevolent air; the young girls 
leaning out of the windows curiously to see who was 
passing — all these objects passed before his eyes with- 
out being able to divert his mind from the though 
which engrossed it. 

He walked on, staring and stared «>t, bat always 
thinking of Suzel, of her blue tippet, her little hood, 
her glossy hair, her round plump arms ; then of the 
day when old David had placed her between them 
two at dinner ; of the sound of her voice when she 
looked down so prettily ; and then about her beignets ; 


138 


Friend Fritz. 


or else about those spots of cream on her cheeks and 
hair on a certain day at the farmhouse — in short 
about everything. He saw all this without wishing 
to see it. 

And thus, with his nose in the air and his hands 
in his pockets, he would reach the end of the village, 
and find himself amongst the growing wheat or in 
some country path which wound between fields of rye 
or potatoes. There the quail was singing of love, the 
partridge was calling to her mate, and the lark, high 
up in the sky, was celebrating the joy of being a 
mother. Far off in the farmyard the cock was utter- 
ing his crow of triumph, the warm fitful breeze was 
bearing along and scattering everywhere the unnum- 
bered germs which were to fertilise the earth. Love ! 
— always love ! And, over all, the splendid sun, the 
lather of all living things, with his long golden 
beard and blazing arms, which embraced and blessed 
the whole earth ! Ah ! what abominable persecu- 
tion ! Is not a man to be pitied who meets every- 
where, everywhere, the same images, the same 
thoughts, the same cares ? Great use truly in trying 
to rid yourself of a plague which follows you every- 
where you go, and the more you shake it off the 
closer it sticks. Good gracious, what sufferings man - 
kind are exposed to ! 

It is really astonishing,” said poor Kobus to him- 
self, ‘Hhat I am not at liberty to think what I like, 
and to forget what doesn’t suit me. What ! are all 
ideas of order, common sense, and prudence to vanish 
from my mind Mhenever I see the birds billing and 


Friend Frits.. 


139 


cooing, tlie butterflies chasing each other, and such 
childish things as these, A^hich haven’t an atom of 
common sense in them ? And then forsooth I musl 
think of Suzel, I must actually rave to myself, I must 
feel myself wretched, when I have everything I can 
want, when I eat well and drink well ! Come, come, 
Fritz, this is really too bad; shake off this folly; try 
and be a reasonable creature ! ” 

It was just as if he had attempted to reason against 
the gout or the toothache. 

The worst of all was that when he was wandering 
in this way along the bypaths he always fancied he 
heard old David crying in a nasal voice in his ear — 

“ Oh, ho, Kobus ! you will have to submit, you 
will have to do like the others. He ! he ! he ! I tell 
you, Fritz, your hour is at hand ! ” 

‘‘ The deuce take you ! ” thought he. 

But at other times he would say to himself with a 
gentle and melancholy resignation — 

Perhaps after all, Fritz — perhaps after all, men 
are made to get married, since almost every one does 
get married. Ill-natured people may even go further, 
and assert that old bachelors are not the sages, but, 
on the contrary, the fools of creation, and that, when 
closely examined, their conduct is little better than 
that of the drones in a hive.” 

These latter ideas, however, were only passing 
tjoughts which annoyed him for a moment; he turned 
aside from them determinedly, and was most indignant 
with people who were capable of holding any other 
theories than those of peace, calmness, and repose, 


140 


FHend Fritz, 


sv^hicli he had made the groundwork of his mode of life, 
and every time that such an idea passed through hia 
mind, he hastened to reply — 

“ When our happiness no longer depends on our- 
selves, but on the caprice of a woman, it is all over 
with us ; one had better hang himself than get into 
such a mess ! ” 

Then, when, absorbed in these reflections, he had 
wandered far into the open countiy, and heard in the 
distance the village clock striking, he w^ould turn 
homewards quite astonished at the rapid flight of 
time. 

“ Oh, so you are there ! ” cried the fat collector on 
seeing him. “ I am just closing my accounts. Sit 
down. I shan’t be more than ten minutes.” 

The table was covered with piles of florins and 
thalers, which shook and jingled at the least touch. 
Haan, bending over his register, was adding up the 
columns. Then, with a beaming face, he dropped the 
piles one after the otlier into a long linen bag, which 
he sealed carefully and placed beside a row of others. 
When all was settled, the accounts verified, and the 
receipts abundant, he would turn round in high spirits 
and exclaim — 

“ Look there, Kobus ; those are the sinews of war ! 
His majesty can’t pay his army, his ministers, and all 
the rest without these beggarly pieces of coin — ha ! 
ha ! ha ! The earth must sweat it, and the people too. 
When, I wonder, will a lot of these big- wigs be sent to 
the right about, and the poor people get some relief ! 
Not in your time or mine, I fear, Kobus, for it is the 


Friend Fritz. 


141 


big- wigs whom his majesty will be the first to consult 
on the subject.” 

Then he held his fat paunch with both hands to 
laugh more at his ease, and exclaimed — 

“ What a farce ! what a farce ! But that doesn’t 
concern us. I do as I am ordered. What will you 
drink ? ” 

“ Nothing, Haan ; I don’t feel inclined for any- 
thing.” 

“ Bah ! we must take a pick of something while the 
horse is being harnessed ; a glass of wine always makes 
you see things in a cheerful point of view. When we 
have melancholy ideas, Fritz, we ought to change the 
glasses of our spectacles, and look at the universe 
through a bottle of gleiszeller or umstein.^^ 

So saying, he left the room to order the horse round 
and settle the bill, and then returned to take a glass 
with Kobus. Everything having been finally settled, 
and the bags arranged in the strong box in the bottom 
of the char-a-banc, he cracked his whip and drove off 
to another village. 

It was in this way that our friend Fritz passed his 
time on the tour, not always in the most cheerful way, 
as you have seen. His remedy did not produce all the 
beneficial effects he had expected — far from it in fact. 

But what wearied him more than all the rest was to 
be left alone in the evening after supper with Haan in 
seme old auberge in one of these out-of-the-way villa- 
ges, which are as (juiet as the grave, after nine o’clock, 
because every one has gone to sleep, without even the 
resource of a game of youker or a tankard of beer, 


142 


Friend Fritz. 


seeing that there were no cards to be had, and the 
beer was like vinegar. When this was the case they 
got jolly together on schnaps^ or the wine of Ekersthal 
But Fritz, ever since his flight from Hunebourg, was 
singularly sad and tender-hearted in his cups, and 
even this thin sour stuff, which would have set the 
teeth of a goat on edge, gave a melancholy turn to his 
ideas. He told old stories without end — the history 
of the marriage of his grandfather Niclausse with his 
grandmother Gorgel, or the adventure of his grand- 
uncle Seraphion Kobus, privy councillor of the Great 
Pheasantry of the elector Hans-Peter XYII., which 
grand-uncle fell suddenly in love, about the age of 
seventy, with a certain French opera-dancer called 
Bosa von Pomj^on, insomuch that Seraphion ended 
by following her about to all the theatres and fairs in 
the country, in order to have the happiness of admir- 
ing her. Fritz branched out at great length on such 
themes, and Haan, who was three-fourths asleep, 
yawned behind his hand from time to time, saying in 
a drawling nasal voice — Is it possible ? — is it possi- 
ble ? ” Or else interrupted him by bursting into a 
great horse laugh without any cause whatever, stam- 
mering at the same time — “ He ! he ! he ! What 
droll things happen in this world ! Go on, Kobus — 
go on ; I am listening to you. But I was thinking 
just now of that animal Schoultz allowing himself to 
be pulled out of a swamp by the boots by a couple of 
peasants.” 

Fritz resumed his sentimental history, and in thi» 
way the bed-hour arrived. 


l^Hend Fritz. 


143 


Having retired to their double-bedded chamber, 
with the strong box between them and the door locked, 
Kobus remembered fresh particulars about the unfortu- 
nate attachment of his grand-uncle Seraphion, and the 
disreputable character of Madlle. Rosa von Pompon, 
and went on to relate them at considerable length 
until he heard the fat Haan snoring like a trumpet, 
and was perforce obliged to finish the story to him- 
self, which always ended with a marriage. 


CHAPTER XII. 


Our friend Kobus, one morning when jolting along fl 
very indifferent road in the valley of Reethal, wnilsl 
Haan was driving carefully and looking out to prevent 
the vehicle from being overturned in the ruts — our 
fi-iend Kobus, I say, indulged in many bitter reflec** 
tions on the vanity of things in general. He was in 
very low spirits, and said to himself — 

“ Of what use is it to you now, Fritz, that you havo 
always been careful to keep your feet warm, your head 
cool, and the rest, for these twenty years past ? In 
spite of your great prudence, a feeble being has dis- 
turbed your repose with a single look. Of what use 
was it to fly far from your home, since this madness 
follows you everywhere, and you cannot escape it, no 
matter where you go ? What availed it to amass, by 
your judicious foresight, a store of exquisite whines 
calculated to gratify alike the senses of smell and taste 
not only of one man but of many, and that for years 
together, if you cannot any longer drink a glass of wine 
without running the risk of chattering like an old 
washerwoman, and telling stories which would make 
you the laughing-stock of David, Schoultz, Haan, and 
the whole country, if they knew why you were led to 
tell them? All consolation, therefore, is denied you.’* 
As his thoughts took this turn, the drops of per 


Friend Fritz, 


145 


spiration stood on his forehead, and his distress was 
inexpressible. But what added to his sufferings was 
to see Haan take a bottle out of the straw, and hear 
him say — 

“ Come, Kobus, take a pull at this. Isn’t the heat 
stifling at the bottom of these valleys ? ” 

“ Thank you, no,” he replied, “ I’m not thirsty.” 
He was afraid, you see, of beginning all the love ad- 
ventures of his progenitors over again, and perhaps 
ending by telling his own. 

‘‘ What ! You are not thirsty ? ” exclaimed Haan. 
“ That’s impossible, surely. Come ! Have a drink ! ” 
‘‘ No, no ; I feel something heavy here,” said he, 
putting his hand on his stomach and making a wry 
face. 

“ That comes of our not drinking enough yester- 
day evening ; we went to bed much too early,” replied 
the stout collector. “ Take a pull ; it will make you 
all right.” 

‘‘ No, thank you.” 

‘‘ You won’t ? Then you are wrong.” 

Thereupon Haan tDted up his elbow, and Fritz saw 
his throat expand and contract with an expression of 
unutterable satisfaction. The collector gave a deep 
sigh, hammered in the cork with his hand, and put 
the bottle between his legs, saying — 

“ That does one good. Hi ! Fox, hi ! ” 

“ What a materialist that Haau is ! ” thought Fritz ; 
“ he thinks of nothing but eating and drinking ” 

“ Kobus,” resumed the other gravely, ‘‘ you are 
breeding some malady, I fear. Take care. Here arf 

T 


146 


Friend Fritz. 


two lays that you haven’t drunk a drop — it’s a bad 
sign. You are losing flesh, too. When stout men 
grow thin and thin men stout, every one will tell you 
it’s a most dangerous symptom.” 

“ Confound you ! ” thought Fritz. And sometimes 
the idea occurred to him that Haan suspected some- 
thing ; then, suddenly growing as red as a turkey-cock, 
he observed the collector with the corner of his eye, 
but seeing him look quite unconscious, his suspicions 
vanished. 

At last, after a drive of about two hours, having 
crossed the range of hills in front of them, they came 
to a level sandy road at the bottom of the valley be 
yond, and Haan, pointing out with his whip a dozen 
or two of wretched huts on the mountain side oppo- 
site, overlooked by a chapel above, which seemed 
perched amidst the clouds, said with a melancholy air — 

“ That’s Wildland, the country I was speaking to 
you about at Hunebourg. We shall be there in a 
quarter of an hour. Look ! there are two ex voios 
hanging from that tree, and further on you see another, 
in the form of a chapel, in the hollow of that rock. 
We shall meet them now at every step. It’s the mis- 
ery of miseries — not a road, not a lane in good order, 
but ex votos everywhere. And to think that these 
people no sooner get three or four sous scraped together 
than they forthwith spend them in masses, whilst poor 
Haan is forced to shout and thump the table, and ha- 
rangue himself black in the face, in order to obtain the 
king’s taxes ! You may believe me or not,* Kobus, 
but my heart bleeds to have to come here to ask for 


Friend Fritz. 


147 


mercy from these wretches, to sell their miserable huti 
and bits of furniture.” 

So saying, Haan gave a smart cut of the whip to 
Fox, who straightway broke into a gallop. 

The deep lane up which the vehicle was now climb- 
ing, besides being littered over with heaps of sand, 
stones, and gravel, and worn here and there into deep 
ruts by the heavy country carts, drawn by oxen or 
cows, was so narrow that the axle-tree of the vehicle 
was often touching the rock at either side. 

As a matter of course Fox was obliged to toil up at 
a walking pace, and it was only after a stiff pull of a 
quarter of an hour, which tried that worthy animal’s 
lungs pretty severely, that they reached the first out- 
lying cottages of the village, miserable huts about fif- 
teen or twenty feet high, with the gable towards the 
valley, and the door and two small windows facing the 
road. A woman, with her shock of red hair thrust 
beneath a cotton nightcap, hollow cheeks, long neck 
furrowed by a sort of deep channel extending from the 
lower jaw to the breast-bone, fixed and haggard eyes, 
and sharp nose, was standing on the threshold of the 
first cabin, staring at the vehicle. 

Before the door of the other cottage on the opposite 
side of the road, a child of three or four years of age 
was squatting on the ground quite naked, with the ex- 
ception of a rag of a shirt which was thrown around 
his shoulders and reached down to his thighs. His 
skin was a deep brown, his hair of a yellowish hue, 
and his look had in it something gentle and inquiring. 

Fritz looked narrowly at this curious sight. 


14:8 


Friend Fritz. 


The filthy street running in an oblique lirectioi 
through the village, the barns filled with straw, tlie 
dilapidated cart-sheds, the dim, discolored windows, 
the little open doors, and tumbledown roofs, all hud- 
dled together, stood out in a confused and shapeless 
mass against the dark pine-trees in the background. 

While the carriage was winding its way through the 
dung-heaps which were scattered over the street, a 
little wolfish-looking dog rushed out and commenced 
barking furiously at Fox. Forthwith the inhabitants 
trooped out on the thresholds of their cabins, looking 
for the most part old and yellow, clad in dirty blouses 
and linen pantaloons, their unbuttoned shirts display- 
ing to view their naked and sun-burnt chests. 

About fifty yards to the left of the village stood 
the church, a very neat white building, with newly- 
painted windows, looking quite gay and coquettish 
amidst the surrounding wretchedness. The cemetery 
with its little wooden crosses, formed its inclosure. 

‘‘ Here we are,” said Haan. 

The carriage had pulled up in a hollow at the cor- 
ner of a yellow painted house, the handsomest in the 
village next to the curb’s. It was two stories high, 
and had five windows in front, three above and two 
below. The door was at the side, and opened under- 
neath a sort of shed. In this shed were huddled to- 
gether a quantity of faggots, a saw, a hatchet, and 
some wedges for splitting wood. Low^er down several 
large stone flags were placed in a sloping position tc 
carry off the water from the roof into the street 
where the char-k-bancs stopd. 


Friend Fritz. 


149 


Fritz and Haan had only to step over the side of the 
carriage in order to place their feet on thes^ flags. A 
little man, with a nose like that of a magpie looking 
out for a tit-bit, white towy hair smoothed flat over his 
forehead, and very light blue eyes, came forward 
from the door, and said — 

“ He ! he ! he ! Mr. Haan ; you have come two days 
sooner than last year.” 

“ Quite true, Schneegans,” replied the fat collector, 
“ but I informed you beforehand. Of course you have 
made the necessary arrangements ? ” 

“Yes, Mr. Haan, the beadle has been going the 
lounds since morning. Stay ! you can hear his drum 
now in the market-place.” 

And in fact just then the sound of a cracked drum 
was heard rattling through the village square. Kobus, 
turning round, saw a tall hero in a blouse, with a 
cocked hat perched on the back of his neck, the peak 
reaching nearly to his waist, a red nose, hollow cheeks, 
his drum resting on his thigh, standing beside the 
fountain and drumming away with all his might, stop- 
ping to shout in a shrill, discordant voice, whilst a 
crowd of people collected in all the windows around 
to listen — 

“ This is to notify that Mr. Collector Haan attends 
at the Black Horse Inn to receive the arrears of 
taxes which are still due, and will remain till two 
o’clock, after which time those who have not paid will 
have tc attend at Hunebourg on this day fortnight, 
unless they wish to receive a visit from the 
bailiflf,’’ 


150 


Friend Fritz. 


Upon this tho beadle proceeded on his round, bea^ 
ing away on his drum, and Haan, taking the registers 
out of the carriage, entered the sitting-room of the inn, 
Kobus following. F rom this they mounted by a wooden 
staircase to a room on the upper floor, of the same size 
as the one below, but better lighted, and furnished 
with two beds in a recess, so high from the floor that 
it required the assistance of a chair to mount up to 
them. In the centre was a square table. Two or three 
wooden chairs in the recesses of the windows, an old 
barometer suspended on a nail behind the door, and 
the portraits of St. Maclof, Saint Jeronymus, and the 
Blessed Virgin, magnificently colored, hung around 
the whitewashed walls, completed the furniture of 
the apartment. 

‘‘ Well, here we are at last ! ” said the fat collector, 
seating himself with a sigh. “ You are going to see 
some strange sights here, Fritz.” 

He opened his registers and uncorked his ink-bottle. 
Kobus took his place at the window, and gazed out 
over the roofs of the cottages opposite, at the immense 
valley beneath, covered with wide fertile meadows, 
while, climbing up the slope on either side, were lux- 
uriant orchards filled with fruit-trees, and little gar- 
dens inclosed with rickety palings or green hedges, 
the dark masses of pines crowning the summits of 
the hills around. It reminded him of his farm at 
Meisenthal ! 

Soon a great tumult was heard below in the sallt. 
The whole village, bot,h men and women, had taken 
possession of the inn. At the same moment Schneev 


Friend Fritz. 


151 


gans entered, carrying a bDttle of white irine and two 
glasses, which he placed on the table. 

“ Shall I tell them all to come up at once ? ” asked 
he. 

No, one after the other, as each man’s name is 
called,” replied Haan, filling the glasses. “ Come, 
take a drop, Fritz. We shan’t require to open the 
the big bag to-day. I’m certain they have been mak- 
ing benefactions to the church as usual.” 

And, leaning over the banister, he shouted — 

‘‘ Frantz Laer ! ” 

Immediately a heavy footstep was heard on the 
stairs, the collector returned to his seat, and a tall 
man in a blue blouse, and wearing a large slouched 
hat, entered. His long, meagre, yellow features wore 
a callous and indifierent air. He stopped on the 
threshold. 

“ Frantz Laer,” said Haan, ‘‘ you owe nine florins 
of arrears and four florins on present account.” 

The other lifted his blouse, thrust his hand into his 
trousers pocket up to the elbow, and laid eight florins 
on the table, saying — 

There!” 

What do you mean by ‘ there ? ’ You owe thir- 
teen florins.” 

‘‘ I cannot pay more. My little girl made her first 
communion eight days ago — that cost me a good deal ; 
and I had also to give four florins for a new mantle 
for Saint Maclof. 

A new mantle for Saint Maclof ? ” 

“ Yes ; the commune has bought a new mantle, the 


152 


Friend Fritz. 


handsomest they could get, embroidered witl. gold, foi 
Saint Maclof, our patron.” 

“ Oh, very good,” said Haan, ghdng a side look at 
Kobus ; “ you ought to have said so at once. If you 
have had to buy a new mantle for Saint Maclof, I 
suppose there is no more to be said ; only take 
care that he doesn’t want something else next 
year. I shall give you a receipt, then, for eight 
florins.” 

Haan wrote the receipt, and handed it to Laer, 
saying — 

“ The balance of five florins must be paid in three 
months from this time, or I shall be forced to take 
legal proceedings.” 

The peasant left the room, and Haan said to 
Fritz — 

“ That’s the richest man in the village ; he is an ad- 
joint ; you can judge from that what the rest are like.” 

Then, without rising from his chair, he shouted, 
‘‘Joseph Besrn^ ! ” 

In answer to this summons an old woodcutter ap- 
peared, who paid four florins out of twelve ; then 
another, who paid six florins out of seventeen ; an- 
other, again, who paid two out of thirteen, and so 
on. They had all contributed towards the handsome 
mantle for Saint Maclof, and every one of them had 
a brother, a sister, or a child in purgatory who want- 
ed masses said for them. The women groaned and 
raised their hands to heaven, invoking the Blessed 
Virgin ; the men remained calm. 

At last five 01 six followed in succession who paid 


F'neiid Fritz. 153 

tiothiiig, and Haan, furious, rushed to the door, und 
roared at the top of his voice — 

‘‘ Come up, come up here, you beggarly set ! Come 
all of you together ! ” 

A great trampling and pushing was heard on the 
staircase. Haan resumed his seat, and Kobus, who 
stood beside him, looked towards the door, curious to 
see what the new-comers were like. In two minutes 
the room was half-filled with people — men, women, 
and young girls, in patched or tattered blouses, jack- 
ets, and petticoats — all lean, emaciated, ragged, their 
faces resembling those of some of the lower animals, 
with their narrow foreheads, prominent cheek-bones, 
long noses, dull, unintelligent eyes, and stolid ex- 
pression. 

Some, prouder than the rest, affected a sort of 
haughty indifference, with their heavy felt hats thrown 
on the back of their heads, their hands stuck in their 
waistcoat- pockets, one foot planted firmly in advance, 
and elbows squared defiantly. Two or three old, 
haggard-looking women, their eyes lighted up and 
their lips curling with anger and contempt ; several 
young girls with pale emaciated faces and lank 
flaxen hair, and a number of younger ones with 
dark-brown, sunburnt complexions and turnod-up 
noses, stood in the background, nudging each other 
with their elbows, whispering muttered remarks, and 
standing on tiptoe to see what was going on in front. 

The collector, purple with' rage, his scanty reddish- 
colored hair standing up wrathfully over his great 
bald head, waited till all had taken their places, af 

7 * 


154 


Friend Fritz. 


fectmg in the meantime to consult liis register. At 
last he turned round abruptly, and asked if there 
was any one else who wished to pay. 

An old woman handed in twelve kreutzers ; all the 
others remained motionless. 

Then Haan, turning round again, exclaimed — 

“I am told that you have just bought a handsome 
new cloak for the patron saint of your village, and 
as the three-fourths of you haven’t a shirt to your 
backs, I thought of course that the blessed Saint 
Maclof, to recompense you for your piety, would 
have come himself and handed in the amount of 
your taxes. See, my bags were all ready. I was 
happy to think I was going to receive the money, 
but no person has come. I am afraid that the king 
may wait a long time before the saints of the calen- 
dar will fill his coffers. 

“ In the meantime, I should like to know what this 
great Saint Maclof has done for you, what are the 
services he has rendered you, that you give him all 
your money in this way ? 

Has he made you a good road to enable you to 
bring your wood, your cattle, or your vegetables to 
market ? Has he paid the gendarmes which keep some 
sort of order in your country ? Would Saint Maclof 
prevent you from plundering and stealing from each 
other, or breaking each other’s heads, if the public 
force were to be withdrawn ? 

‘‘ Is it not a disgra(3e to leave all these burdens on 
the king ; to mock and insult the monarch who pays 
the armies that lefend the German dominions ; the 


Friend Fritz. 


155 


ambassadors that nobly rej resent our fatherland ; the 
architects, and engineers, and workmen that cover the 
country with canals, and roads, and bridges, and build- 
ings of all sorts, which form the glory and honor of 
our race ; the bailiffs, and functionaries, and gendarmes 
who guard every one in the possession of his property ; 
the judges who dispense justice according to our old 
laws and usages, and chartered rights ? Is it not 
abominable conduct never to think of paying him, or 
assisting him like good subjects, but to carry all your 
kreutzers to Saint Maclof, Lalla-Boumphel, and a 
whole host of saints that no one knows from Adam or 
Eve, that are never once mentioned in the Holy Scrip- 
tures, and who, into the bargain, eat up at least sixty 
of your working days in the year, without reckoning 
the fifty-two Sundays ? 

Do you think this can go on forever ? Don’t you 
see that it is contrary to common sense, to justice, to 
everything right and proper ? If you had an atom of 
good feeling, would you not take into consideration 
the services which our gracious sovereign, who is the 
father of his subjects, and who puts bread in all your 
mouths, is constantly rendering you ? Are you not 
ashamed to carry all your contributions to Saint Mac- 
lof, whilst you leave me, who have come here to collect 
the debts due to the State, without a penny? Lis- 
ten ! If the king were not so kind and long-suffer 
ing as he is, he would long ago have sold up your 
wretched huts, and then we should see if the saints 
of the calendar would have built you others in theii 
place. 


156 


Friend Fritz. 


“ But since you admire him so much, this great 
Saint Maclof of yours, why don’t you do like him ? 
Why don’t you leave your wives and children, and 
tramp over the world with a bag on vour back, pick- 
ing up crusts and living on charity ? It would seem 
only right to follow his example. Then others would 
come and till your fields w'hich you allow to lie fallow, 
and would put themselves in a position to discharge 
their obligations to their sovereign. 

‘‘Just look a little around you, at the people of 
Schneemath, Heckmath, Ourmath, and other places, 
who render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, 
and unto God the things that are God’s, according to 
the Divine words of our Lord Jesus Christ. Look 
how they act. They are good Christians, they work 
hard, and don’t invent new fUes every day as an ex- 
cuse for lounging about and idling, and wasting their 
money at the public-house. They don’t spend their 
money on gold-embroidered robes ; they would rather 
buy shoes for their children ; while you go about bare- 
footed like a set of savages. 

“ Fifty holidays in the year for a thousand people 
make fifty thousand working days absolutely lost ! If 
you are poor and miserable, and not able to pay the 
king, the saints of the calendar deserve all the glory 
and credit. I tell you these things, because there is 
nothing that annoys me more than to come here every 
three months to fulfil my duties, and to see a set of 
beggars, miserable and naked froui their own fault, 
who look at you as if you were a sort of Antichrist 
when you ask them for what is considered due to the 


Friend Fritz, 


15 ? 


sovereign in every Christian country, and even among 
the Turks and Chinese. The people of every country 
in the universe pay taxes in order to be protected in 
life and property ; you alone give everything to Saint 
Maclof ; and, God knows, any one can see from look- 
ing at you how he repays you. 

“ However, I warn you of one thing : those of you 
who haven’t paid their taxes in eight days from this 
time will have a visit from the bailifi’. His majesty’s 
patience is great, but it has its limits. 

“ I have no more to say ; be off with you, and re- 
member what Haan has told you. The bailiff will be 
with you as sure as you live.” 

Then they all retired in a body without making any 
reply. 

Fritz was stupefied at his friend’s eloquence, and 
when the last taxpayer had disappeared down the stairs, 
he said — 

“ Why, Haan, you spoke like a real orator just 
now, but between ourselves you were too hard on the 
poor wretches.” 

“ Too hard 1 ” exclaimed the collector, raising his 
great head, on which the hair was still bristling with 
excitement. 

‘‘ Yes, you seem to understand nothing of the finer 
sentiments, the religious feeling ” 

“ The finer sentiments ! ” said Haan. ‘‘ Oh, I see — 
you are making game of me, Fritz — ha ! ha ! ha ! But 
I am not to be taken in by you like the old rabbi Si 
chel; your grave face doesn’t deceive me — I know 
you, my boy ! ” 


168 


Frm.'id Fritz. 


“ And I tell you again.” cried Kobus, “ that it is 
unjust to reproach these peasants for believing in some- 
thing, and above all to charge it on them as a ciime. 
Man is not placed on the earth merely to heap up 
money and fill his belly ! These poor people, with tlieir 
simple faith and their potatoes, are perhaps happier 
than you with your omelettes, your sausages, and your 
good old wine.” 

“ He ! he ! you incorrigible joker,” said Hann, clap- 
ping him on the shoulder. ‘‘ Speak for yourself also, 
if you please ; it seems to me that we have neither ot 
us lived up to the present time on ex votos and po- 
tatoes, and I hope it will be a long time till we do. 
And so you want to poke your fun at your old friend 
Haan I Bather new ideas and theories for you, I 
must say ! ” 

Whilst continuing the discussion they had ap- 
proached the staircase and were just on the point of 
descending, when a slight sound was heard near the 
door. They turned round and saw a young girl of 
sixteen or seventeen years of age standing against the 
wall with her eyes cast down to the fioor. She was 
pale and delicate looking, and was dressed in a gown 
of grey linen, all patched and darned, which clung 
close to her slight figure. A mass of beautiful fair 
hair fell around her forehead, her feet were bare, and 
a sort of faint resemblance which he fancied he could 
discover sent a thrill of tender pity through Kobus’s 
heart, such as he had never felt before. He fancied 
he saw before him little Suzel, emaciated, trembling, 
ill, worn out by toil and misery. He felt as if hh 


Friend Fritz. 159 

heart would burst ; a cold shudder ran through his 
whole frame. 

Haan, on his side, looked at the young girl with an 
air of ill-humor. 

“ What do you want ? ” said he abruptly ; “ the 
registers are closed and the collection over. You must 
all come to Hunebourg to pay now.” 

‘‘ Mr. Collector,” replied the poor child, after a 
moment’s silence, “ I come from my grandmother, 
Annah Ewig. For the last five months she has not 
left her bed. We have had great troubles. My father 
fell under his sledge at the Kohlplatz last winter — he 
died soon after — and — it has cost us a great deal for 
the repose of his soul.” 

Haan, who was beginning to soften at the commence- 
ment of the story, now gave an indignant look at Fritz, 
which expressed plainly — 

‘‘ You hear that ? Saint Maclof again ! ” 

Then, raising his voice — 

‘‘ These are misfortunes which may happen to any 
one,” replied he ; “I am sorry for you ; but when I 
make my report to the head office, they don’t ask me 
whether the people are fortunate or unfortunate, but 
how much money I bring, and when I am short of the 
proper amount, I must make it up out of my own 
pocket. Your grandmother owes eight florins ; I paid 
for her last year, but that can’t go on for ever.” 

The poor little thing looked quite downcast ; one 
could see that she could scarcely keep from crying. 

“ You came to tell me, I suppose,” resumed Haan, 

that yoi: have nothing for me ; that your grandmoth- 


160 


Friend Fritz, 


er hasn’t a sou ; bt .t if that was all you might as well 
have stayed at home ; I knew it already.” 

Without raising her eyes, she held out her hand 
timidly, and opening it, showed that it contained a 
florin. 

‘‘We have sold our goat in order to pay something,” 
she said in a faint voice. 

Kobus turned his head away towards the window ; 
he felt almost sufibcated. 

“ A payment on account,” said Haan — “ always 
on account ! If the sum was even anything worth 
having.” 

Nevertheless he opened his register, saying — 

“ Well, bring it here.” 

The little thing came forward ; but Fritz, leaning 
over the collector’s shoulder as he was beginning to 
write, said in a low voice— 

“ Tut ! drop that.” 

“ What ! ” said Haan, looking at him in amazement. 

“ Blot it all out.” 

“ How ! blot it out ? ” 

“ Yes ! take back your money,” said Kobus to the 
child ; and then he whispered in Haan’s ear, “ I’ll pay 
the amount.” 

“ The eight florins ? ” 

“Yes.” 

Haan laid down his pen. He seemed thoughtful, 
and looking at the young girl, he said in a grave voice— 

“ Here is Mr. Kobus, from Hunebourg, who ia 
going to pay for you. You will tell that to your 
grandmother. It is not Saint Maclof that is paying, 


friend Fritz. 


161 


but Mr. Kobus, a sensible, reasonable man, who does 
it out of kindness of heart.” 

The little thing raised her eyes, and Fritz saw that 
they were of a soft blue, like Suzel’s, and swimming 
in tears. She had already laid her florin on the table , 
he took it up, and adding five or six more to it, he 
stufied them into her pocket, saying — 

“ There, my child, try and get your goat back 
again, or if not, buy another as good. Now you may 
go.” 

She made no attempt to move, however, and Haan, 
guessing what was passing in her mind, said — 

‘‘ You wish to thank the gentleman, don’t you ? ” 

She bent her head silently. 

“ Very good, very good ! ” said he. “ Of course 
we know what you must be thinking. It is a token 
of God’s goodness to you. For the future, however, 
don’t get into arrears. It isn’t much to put by a couple 
of sous each week in order to have your conscience 
easy. Go now — your grandmother will be glad to hear 
the news.” 

The little thing, giving another glance at Kobus full 
of the deepest gratitude, left the room and went down 
the stairs. Fritz, quite agitated, walked towards the 
window, and from thence saw the poor child running 
along the street as if joy had given her wings. 

Well, that ends our business here,” resumed Haan, 
“ Now for the road ! ” 

Turning about, Kobus saw that the collector had 
got his registers under his arm, and that his great 
round shoulders were already beginning to disappear 


162 


Friend Fritz. 


down the staircase. He wiped his eyes and followed 
him. 

“ Halb ! ” exclaimed Schneegans, when they entered 
the salle below, “ are you not going to dine before you 
go, Mr. Collector ? ” 

Are you hungry, Kobus ? ” said Haan. 

« No.” 

Nor I either. You may serve up your dinner to 
Saint Maclof. Every time I come into this beggarly 
country I feel more dead than alive for a fortnight 
afterwards. It regularly knocks me up. Harness the 
horse, Schneegans, that’s all we want from you.” 

The innkeeper left the room. Haan and Fritz, 
standing on the doorstep, watched him leading the 
horse from the stable and harnessing him to the car- 
riage. Kobus took his seat, Haan settled the bill, 
seized the whip and reins, and away they went as they 
had come. 

It might then be about two o’clock. The villagers, 
standing at their cabin doors, watched them passing, 
but not a hat stirred to salute them. 

A s they entered the deep rutty lane, up which they 
had toiled a short time before, the shadows from the 
great rock of Saint Maclof were lengthening over the 
valley, while the opposite hills were still bathed in 
light. Haan seemed in a thoughtful mood. Fritz’s 
head was bent down, and for the first time he gave 
himself up to the feelings of tenderness and love which 
had for some weeks been laying siege to his heart. 
He closed his eyes, and saw passing before him, in 
imagination, sometimes the image of Suzel and sojne^ 


Friend Fritz. 


J63 


times the poor child of the Wildland. The collector, 
whose whole attention was absorbed in steering the 
vehicle safely amongst the deep ruts and rocky projec- 
tions of the road, did not utter a word. 

Towards five o’clock the carriage was rolling along 
the sandy plain of the Tiefenbach. Haan, glancing at 
Kobus, saw that he was apparently overcome with sleep, 
as his head was drooping on his shoulder and swaying 
to and fro with the motion of the vehicle. He there- 
fore lighted his pipe and drove on in silence. Half a 
league farther on, in order to shorten the way, he 
alighted and led Fox by the bridle up the steep slope 
of the Tannewald. Fritz remained in his place, not 
that he was asleep, as his companion imagined, but ab- 
sorbed in his waking dreams. Never before in all his 
life had he dreamed so much. 

In the meantime night was creeping down over the 
forest ; the valley below was already deep in shadow, 
while the highest peaks were still tipped with light. 

After an hour’s steady pull up the ascent, during 
which Fox and Haan stopped from time to time to take 
breath, the vehicle at length reached the level plateau 
at the summit. They had then only to cross the for- 
est to come in sight of Hunebourg. 

The collector, who had walked stoutly along, not- 
withstanding his great paunch, now stepped up on the 
pole, and, cracking his whip, allowed his huge frame 
to slide into its place on the leather cushions. 

‘‘ Get along. Fox ! ” cried he. 

And Fox started off at a sharp trot along the sandy 
track which led through the forest, as if he had npi 


164 Friend Fritz. 

already done three good leagues over mountain 
roads. 

What a glorious sight is a beautiful sunset, when, 
emerging from the valley and coming out on the hill- 
top, you suddenly behold the purple light of evening 
streaming through the feathery tops of the birch-t.'( es, 
which stand out with all their delicate tracery against 
the glowing sky, whilst a thousand mingled perfumes 
of the forest float around you, embalming the air with 
their aromatic breath ! 

The carriage was skirting the edge of the forest. 
A-t one moment all was in darkness, where the great 
arms of the trees formed a canopy over the road, then 
a glimpse of the ruddy sky was visible through the 
branches of the underwood, then all became obscure 
again, and nothing was to be seen but the trunks 
of the trees as they filed past in long succession. 
The sun sank lower and lower, and each time he came 
into view through some luminous opening in the for- 
est, he was several degrees nearer the horizon. At 
last his jolly face was seen peeping through the wild 
hyacinth and wood-sorrel, which formed a thick car- 
pet around, looking like a Silenus purple with wine, 
and crowned with vine-leaves. At last he disappeared 
from view, and a deep curtain of violet concealed his 
descent into the abyss. The grey shades of night 
crept across the sky, and a few stars were already seen 
twinkling above the tall tree- tops in the infinite ex- 
panse beyond. 

As if in sympathy with the aspect of nature around, 
Kobus’s reverie had gradually grown deeper and more 


Friend Fritz. 


165 


absorbing. He listened, almost without hearing them, 
to the roll of the wheels along the sandy road, the 
horse’s hoof striking against a pebble, or the hasty 
flight of some bird startled by the approach of the 
vehicle. They had proceeded in this way for a con- 
siderable time when Haan happened to perceive that 
a strap of the harness had become unfastened. He 
pulled up and alighted. Fritz half-opened his eyes to 
see what was passing. The moon had risen, and was 
flooding the path with her white light. 

As Haan was fastening the buckle of the strap, all 
at once a troop of mowers and haymakers, returning 
home after their day’s work, began to sing in parts an 
old lied beginning — 

“When I think of my beloved.” 

The deep silence which reigned around seemed to be- 
come still deeper, and the forest itself seemed to lend 
a listening ear as the grave sweet voices swelled out 
in the evening air, mingling and blending together 
under the subtle inspiration of love. 

The singers could not be far off; their footsteps 
were heaid plainly on the outskirts of the forest as 
they kept time to the music. 

Haan and Kobus had heard the old lied a hundred 
times, but now it seemed so exquisitely in harmony 
with the silence and beauty of the scene around, that 
they listened to it with a sort of poetic rapture. 
Fritz’s emotion, however, was of a very different na- 
ture from Haan’s, for amongst these voices there was 
one, soft, clear, penetrating, which was the first to 


166 


Friend Fritz. 


commence each verse, and died way the last with sucli 
long-drawn sweetness, that it seemed like a sigh from 
heaven. He fancied he recognized the fresh, tender 
loving tones, and his whole soul seemed centred in his 
ears. 

After a momert’s silence, Haan, who was holding 
Fox by the bridle, to prevent him shaking his head, 
said — 

‘‘ How true they sing ! But so it is always with 
the sons and daughters of Old Germany. Where else 
will you find ” 

“ Hush ! ” said Kobus. 

The old lied commenced again, growing gradually 
fainter as the singers proceeded on their way, but the 
same voice still rose far above the others in its clear 
and touching vibrations. At last the sounds died 
away amidst the rustling of the forest. 

“ They are beautiful, these old songs,” said the 
collector, mounting into the vehicle again. 

“ Whereabouts are we now ? ” asked Kobus. 

“ Near the Bock of the Turtle-doves, not more than 
twenty minutes’ walk from your farm,” replied Haan, 
settling himself into his seat and whipping the horse, 
who resumed his trot. 

“It was Suzel’s voice,” thought Kobus — “ 1 was 
sure of it.” 

Once out of the wood. Fox struck into a gallop; 
he smelt the stable already. Haan, in high spirits at 
the prospect of his tankard of beer at the Stag in 
the evening, was eloquent on the subject of the musics- 
al talents of Old Germany, its old lieds^ and its min* 


Friend Fritz, 


167 


nesingers of bygone times. Kobns was not listening 
— bis thoughts were elsewhere. They had already 
passed through the Hildebrandt gate, and along the 
principal street of the town, in which the lights were 
now shining from all the houses, and the carriage 
stopped opposite his own house without attracting his 
attention. 

“Well, old fellow, are you not going to alight? 
Here we are at your own door,” said Haan. 

Fritz looked about and got down from the carriage. 

“ Good evening, Kobus ! ” cried the collector. 

“ Good night,” said he, mounting the steps in a 
pensive mood. 

That evening his old housekeeper, in her delight 
at having him back again, would have set all her pots 
and pans to work to celebrate his return, but he was 
not hungry. 

“No,” said he, “don’t mind all that; I dined 
heartily. I feel sleepy just now.” 

So saying he went upstairs to bed. 

And so this hon-vivanty this gourmand, this epicure 
of a Kobus was satisfied with a slice of ham in the 
morning and an old lied in the evening as his whole 
nourishment for the day. He was changed indeed ! 


CHAPTEll XIII. 


Goodness knows at what hour Kobus went to slee;^ 
that night, but it was broad daylight when Katel 
entered his room the next morning and saw his cur- 
tains still drawn. 

“ Oh ! it is you, Katel ? ” said he, stretching out 
his arms ; “ what is going on below ? ” 

“ Father Christel wishes to see you, sir ; he has been 
waiting this half-hour.” 

“ Oh ! Father Christel is there? Well, show him 
in. Come in, Christel. Katel, push open the blinds. 
Good morning. Father Christel, good morning — why I 
am delighted to see you ! ” said he, squeezing both the 
Anabaptist’s hands in his, as the good man stood be- 
side him with his greyish beard and broad-brimmed 
felt hat. 

Kobus gazed at him as he spoke with a face beam- 
ing with pleasure. Christel was quite astonished at 
so enthusiastic a reception. 

“ Yes, Mr. Kobus,” said he, smiling, “ I have just 
come from the farm, and brought you a Kttle hamper 
of cherries. Those nice-flavored cherries, you know, 
from the cherry-tree behind the cartshed, which you 
planted yourself twelve years ago.” 

Then Kobus saw a basket of cherries placed on the 
table, neatly arranged and packed carefully in large 


Friend tritz. 


169 


strawberry ieaves, which completely enveloped them. 
They looked so large, and fresh, and tempting, that he 
was quite struck with admiration at their appearance. 

‘‘ Oh, how nice they look — I am so fond of .hose 
cherries ! ” exclaimed he. And so you remembered 
that I liked cherries. Father Christel ? ” 

It was little Suzel,” replied the farmer ; ‘‘ she 
gave herself no rest or peace about them. Every day 
she went to look at the cherry-tree, and was always 
saying to me, ‘ By the time you are to go to Hune- 
bourg, father, the cherries will be ripe ; you know Mr. 
Kobus is fond of them.’ So yesterday evening I said 
to her, ‘ I am going to-morrow,’ and this morning at 
peep of day she got the ladder and went and plucked 
them.” 

At every word which Father Christel spoke Fritz 
felt as it were a refreshing balm distilling itself 
through every fibre of his body. He would fain have 
embraced the good man, but he restrained himself, and 
exclaimed — 

“ Katel, bring the cherries here — I should like to 
taste them.” 

And Katel having brought them, he looked at them 
for awhile in silent admiration; he fancied he saw 
Suzel laying the fresh green leaves in the bottom of the 
basket, then placing the cherries carefully on the top ; 
and the thought of her thus occupied gave him a sort 
of secret and tender delight which could scarcely be 
believed. At last he tasted them, dwelling on the 
flavor and swallowing the stones. 

How fresh and firm cherries are just plucked from 

8 


170 


Friend Fritz, 


the tree ! ” said he. ‘‘You can’t get any like them in 
the market. These seem still to have the dew on them, 
and retain all their natural flavor and perfume.” 

Christel watched him with evident satisfaction. 

“ You are fond of cherries, then ? ” said he. 

“Yes, they are my favorite fruit. But sit down, 
sit down.” 

He placed the basket on the bed between his knees, 
and whilst chatting to Christel he put a cherry in his 
mouth from time to time, and ate it slowly, his eyes 
swimming with pleasure. 

“ And so. Father Christel,” resumed he, “ Mother 
Orchel and all at the farm are quite well ? ” 

“ Quite well, Mr. Kobus.” 

“ And Suzel, too ? ” 

‘ Yes, thank God, all are very well. For the last 
few days Suzel, to be sure, has been rather dull. I 
fancied at first she must be ill, but the child is grow- 
ing up, Mr. Kobus ; all girls get a little thoughtful 
now and then at her age.” 

Fritz, recalling to mind his performance on the 
spinet, grew as red as a turkey-cock, and said, clear- 
ing his voice — 

“ Hem ! Oh yes — yes — I suppose you are quite 
right — I — see here, Katel, put these cherries in the 
cupboard, or I shall eat them all before I have break- 
fasted. Ycu’ll excuse mo. Father Christel; it is time 
that I was dressed.” 

“ Don’t mind me, Mr. Kobus, don’t trouble your 
self on my account.” 

Whilst dressing, Kobus resumed — - 


Ifriend Fritz. IT"! 

“ But you didn’t come from Meisenthal merely tc 
bring me those cherries ? ” 

“ Oh no. I have other business in town. You re* 
member when you were last at the farm I showed you 
a couple of oxen which were put up to fatten. Well, 
a few days after you left, Schmoule bought them ; we 
agreed on three hundred and fifty florins as the price. 
He was to take them away on the first of June, or pay 
me a florin a day for their keep if they remained longer. 
But here are three weeks passed over and the beasts 
are still in my stable. Suzel went to tell him that I 
was very much annoyed at this, but, as he gave me no 
answer, I summoned him before the justice of the peace. 
He didn’t deny having bought the oxen, but he said 
that nothing was settled about their delivery, nor 
about their keep if they were left at the farm; and 
as the justice had no other proof he ordered that 
Schmoule should be put to his oath, which is to be 
done to-day at ten o’clock, before the old rabbi, David 
Sichel, for the Jews have their own fashion of taking 
an oath.” 

‘‘ Oh, very good,” said Kobus, who had thrown a 
cape round his shoulders and was taking down his hat 
from the peg ; it’s just ten now ; I will go with you 
to David’s, and after this is over we can come back 
for dinner. You will dine with me ? ” 

“ Oh, Mi Kcbus, I have my horses at the Red Ox 
inn.” 

‘‘ Stuff and nonsense ! You will dine with me i 
Katel, have something nice for us. I am right glad 
to see you, Christel.” 


172 


Friend Fritz, 


Ai-d left the house together. 

Whilst they were walking along, Fritz said to him 
self — 

“ Isn’t it astonishing ? Only this morning I wai 
dreaming of Suzel, and here is her father who brings 
me cherries which she herself plucked for me. It’s 
marvellous — marvellous ! ” 

His countenance fairly beamed with delight ; he 
recognised the finger of God in all this. 

A few moments afterwards they reached the court 
of the old synagogue. The old Frantzoze beggar was 
sitting in his usual place, with his wooden bowl on his 
knees. Kobus, in his ecstasy, threw a fiorin into it, 
whilst Father Christel thought in his heart, How 
good and generous he is ! ” 

The Frantzoze looked up quite surprised, but Fritz 
took no notice and marched on with head erect, and 
smiling with happiness at having Suzel’s father beside 
him. He felt as if a breath of the fresh air of the 
Meisenthal, a ray of its bright sunshine, had made its 
way into the gloomy court. 

And to show what strange changes take place in 
men’s minds, this old Anabaptist, whom he had looked 
on a few months before merely as an honest peasant 
and nothing more, he now felt he loved ; he thought 
him a clever, sensible man, with a whole host of good 
qualities which he had never suspected before, and he 
vs^ent heart and soul with him in his dispute with 
Schmoule against whom he felt most indignant. 

Meantime the old rabbi, David, standing at his open 
window, was waiting the arrival of Christel, Schmoule. 


Friend FHt2. 


173 


and the justice of the peace. At the sight of Kobus 
a smile lighted up his face. 

Oh, ho ! So you are there, schaudej^^ cried he, 
while Fritz was still some way off; ‘‘I haven’t seen 
you for these eight days past.” 

‘‘ Yes, David, here I am,” said Fritz, stopping op 
posite the window. “ I have come with Christel, my 
farm-manager, an honest, worthy man, for whom I can 
answer as for myself. He is incapable of saying any- 
thing which is not correct.” 

‘‘ Yes, yes,” interrupted David, ‘‘ I have known him 
this long time. Come in, come in ; the others must 
soon be here. There’s ten o’clock striking.” 

Old David had on his great brown cloak, worn and 
shining at the elbows from long use ; a black velvet 
skull-cap was perched on the back of his bald head, 
from beneath which a few grey hairs escaped here and 
there. His thin yellow face, furrowed with innumer- 
able tiny wrinkles, wore a dreamy and absent expres- 
sion as if it had been the solemn feast of the Fipon/r, 

“ Are you not going to change your dress ? ” asked 
Fritz. 

‘‘ No, there is no necessity ; sit down.” 

They took their seats. 

The old Souris looked in through the half-opened 
door of the kitchen, and said — 

« Good day, Mr. Kobus.” 

“ Good day, Souris, good day. Won’t you como 
in?” 

“ I shall come by-and-by,” said she. 

‘‘ I need not tell you, David,” resumed Fritz, “ that 


174 


Friend Fritz. 


I fully believe Cbristers story. I would answer foi 
him with my life.” 

‘‘ Yes, I know all that,” said the old rabbi ; and 
I know also that Schmoule is a sharp fellow, a very 
sharp fellow, in fact rather too sharp. But we had 
better not talk of that. I received the notice three 
days ago, and I have been thinking over the matter ; 
but stay, here they come ! ” 

Schmoule, with his great nose curving like a vul- 
ture’s beak, his fiery red hair, his short blouse fastened 
round the waist with a cord, and his flat cap pulled 
down over his eyes, was crossing the court with a care- 
less air. Behind him walked the secretary Schwan, 
with a tall chimneypot hat towering above his large 
red pimpled face, and his register under his arm. A 
moment afterwards they entered the room. David 
said to them gravely — 

“ Sit down, gentlemen.” 

Then he walked to the door, which Schwan had 
closed behind him inadvertently, and opened it, say- 
ing— 

“ The administration of an oath must be in public.” 

He then took from a stand a large bible, bound in 
wood, the leaves edged with red and bearing the marks 
of frequent use, laid it open on the table, and seated 
himself in front of it in his great leathern chair. His 
whole appearance and air had something thoughtful 
and dignified. The rest of the party looked on in si- 
lence. Whilst he turned over the leaves of the booh 
Sourle entered and took her place behind his chair^ 
where she remained standing. One or two people whc 


Friend Fritz. 


175 


\v«i'e passing down the gloomy staircase leading to the 
Jews’ street, attracted by the preparations, stopped and 
looked on with an air of curiosity. 

The silence lasted for some minutes, during which 
all present had time to reflect, and then David, raising 
his head, and placing his hand on the book, said — 

‘‘ Mr. Richter, the justice of the peace, has decreed 
that an oath shall be administered to Isaac Schmoule, 
dealer in cattle, in the following matter : — ‘ Is it true 
or not that an agreement was made between the said 
Isaac Schmoule and Hans Christel that Schmoul6 
should take away, within eight days, a pair of oxen, 
which he had bought on the twenty-second of May 
last, and that in default of his doing so he should pay 
to the said Christel one florin for each day they re- 
mained after the appointed time, as the cost of their 
keep ? ’ Is that correct ? ” 

“It is quite correct,” said Schmoul6 and the Ana- 
baptist both together. 

“ It only remains, then, to ascertain if Schmoule is 
willing to be sworn.” 

“ I came here for that purpose,” said Schmoule 
calmly. “I am quite ready.” 

“ One moment,” interrupted the old rabbi, raising 
his finger — “ one moment ! It is my duty before en- 
gaging in such an act, one of the most sacred and sol- 
emn of our religion, to remind Schmoul6, as the per- 
son to be sworn, of its importance.” 

Then in a grave, serious voice he read as follows : — 
“ Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God 
in vain. 


176 


Friend Fritz, 


“ TJiou shalt not bear false witness against tlij 
neighbor.” 

Then, further on, he read in the same solemn voice — 
If a dispute shall arise concerning an ox or an ass, 
or any lesser animal, or a coat, or any other thing, the 
cause of the two parties shall be brought before the 
judge, and an oath of the Lord shall be between them 
both.” 

Schmoul6 was about to speak, but for the second 
time David made a sign to him to keep silent, and 
proceeded — 

‘‘Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy 
God in vain. 

“ Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy 
neighbor. 

“ These are two of the commandments of God which 
all the people of Israel heard amid thunders and 
lightnings in the desert of Sinai. 

“ And now hear what the Almighty says to those 
who break His commandments : — 

“ But if ye will not hearken unto me and will not 
do all these my commandments, the heaven that is 
over thy head shall be brass, and the earth that is 
under thee shall be iron. 

“ The Lord shall send upon thee cursing, vexation, 
and rebuke in all thou settest thy hand unto to do, 
until thou be destroyed. The Lord shall make the 
rain of thy land powder and dust, and shall smite 
thee with the botch of Egypt and with the emerods, 
even great plagues, and of long continuance, and soro 
sicknesses, and of long continuance. 


Friend Fritz, 


177 


* ‘ Thy sons and daughters shall be given to another 
people, and thine eyes shall look and fail with longing 
for them all the day long, and there shall be no 
might in thy hand to deliver them. 

‘‘ And thy life shall hang in doubt before thee, and 
thou shalt fear day and night, and shalt have none 
assurance of thy life. In the morning thou shalt say, 
‘ Would God it were even,’ and at even thou shalt 
sa}", ‘ Would God it were morning.’ 

And all these curses shall come upon thee, and 
shall pursue thee until thou shalt be utterly destroyed, 
because thou obeyest not the commandments and the 
statutes of the Lord which He has given thee.” 

“ These are the words of God,” resumed David, 
raising his head from the book. 

He looked at Schmoul6, who remained with his 
eyes fixed on the Bible, and appeared deep in 
thought. 

‘‘ And now, Schmoul6,” pursued he, you are to 
take an oath on this book, in the presence of the 
Ain ighty, who is listening to you ; you are to swear 
that no agreement was made between you and Chris- 
tel either as to the day you were to take these oxen, 
or as to the sum you were to pay for their keep if 
you failed to take them at the appointed time. But 
beware of harboring any secret quibbles in your mind 
to justify you in taking an oath if you are not cer- 
tain of the truth of what you are to swear. Guard 
yourself, for instance, against saying to yourself, 

‘ This Christel has wronged me, he has put me to 
loss, he has prevented me from making money on 


178 


Friend Fritz. 


such and such an occasion.’ Or else, ‘He has injur 
ed my father, or my relations, and in that way 1 
only get back what would otherwise have come to me.’ 
Or else, ‘ The words of our agreement have a double 
meaning, and I choose to take them in the sense that 
suits myself ; they are not clear, and in this way I can 
deny them.’ Or else, ‘ This Christel has charged me 
too much ; his oxen were not worth the sum agreed 
on, and so in keeping something from him I am only 
acting in strict justice, which requires that the mer- 
chandise and the price shall be equal, like the two 
scales of a balance.’ Or, once again, ‘ I have not the 
whole sum by me at present, but afterwards I will 
repair the injustice,’ or any other idea of fhe kind. 
No, all these subterfuges cannot escape the eye of the 
Almighty. It is not with such ideas, nor any like 
them, that you ought to take an oath ; it is not after 
your own thoughts, which may lead you astray from 
self-interest, that you should swear, it is my thoughts 
which should he your guide, and you must not, by 
cunning devices such as I have described, add to or 
take from anything which I lay down as your rule of 
conduct in the matter. Then I, .David Sichel, put to 
you this simple question : Did you, Schmoule, prom- 
ise to pay Christel a florin for each day you left the 
oxen at the farm .after the eight days from the time 
of your purchasing them ? If you did not so prom* 
ise, lay your hand on the book of the law and say — 

‘ I swear I did not — I made no promise ! ’ Schmoule, 
come forward, hold out your hand, and swear ! ” 

But Schmoule, raising his eyeis, said — 


triend Fritz. 


170 


‘‘ Thirty florins are non a sum to take such an oath 
about. Since Christel is certain that I promised — for 
my part I remember nothing of it — I will pay the 
amount, and I hope we shall remain good friends. I 
trust some other time he will make it up to me, for the 
oxen are really too dear. However, what is due is due, 
and Isaac Schmoul6 is not the man to take an oath for 
ten times the sum unless he was quite sure he was in 
the right.” 

Then David, looking at Kobus with a very sly 
expression, said — 

“You have done well, Schmoul^; when you are in 
doubt, it is better to abstain.” 

The clerk, having registered the refusal to swear, 
rose, bowed to the company, and left the room with 
Schmoule, who, when he reached the door, turned 
round and said in a brusque tone — 

“ I will come for the oxen to-morrow at eight o’clock, 
and settle with you then.” 

“ Yery good,” said Christel, gravely bending his 
head. 

When they were alone the old rabbi gave a smile. 

“ Schmoule is a sharp fellow,” said he, “ but our old 
Talmudists were still sharper : I knew well enough he 
would not persevere to the end, and that was the rea- 
son I did not dress myself.” 

“ Oh ! I see,” exclaimed Fritz. ‘‘ Well, I must 
confess there is something good, after all, in your 
religion.” 

“ Hold your tongue, epicaures^'' replied David, 
shutting the door and replacing the bible in the coip- 


*180 


Friend Fritz. 


board ; without us you would be all a set of pagans ^ 
it is through us that you have thought these two 
thousand years ; you have discovered nothing and have 
invented nothing yourselves. Just reflect for a mo- 
ment how many divisions and contests there have been 
amongst you during these two thousand years, how 
many sects and religions you have established, while 
we, we have always remained the same since the days 
of Moses. We are now, as we ever were, the children 
of God, you are the children of the world and of pride. 
The least whisper of self-interest is sufficient to make 
you change your opinions, whilst we, poor and wretched 
as we are, the whole universe banded together could 
not make us abandon a single one of our laws.” 

‘‘ These words of yours prove plainly the pride and 
obstinacy of your race,” said Fritz. ‘‘Up to the 
present, I thought you a modect and unpretending 
man, but now I see that in your heart you breathe 
nothing but arrogance and pride.” 

“ And why should I be modest ? ” exclaimed David 
with a sanctimonious drawl. “ If the Almighty chose 
us out from amongst the nations, does it not prove 
that we are better than you ? ” 

“ Oh, hush ! hush ! ” said Kobus laughing. “ Your 
vanity fairly frightens me. I could almost find it in 
my heart to be angry.” 

“Be as angry as you like,” retorted the old rabbi 
“ Who wants to prevent you ? ” 

“ Well, no ; I prefer inviting you to take a cup 
of coffee with me about one o’clock. We shall 
have a chat and a laugh, and afterwards we will go 


Frie'iid Fritz. 181 

together and try the March beer. Does that suit 
you ? ” 

“ So be it,” said Da^id. “ I consent; the thistle 
always gains by associating with the rose.” 

Kobus was just going to exclaim, “ Oh, that’s 
really too bad ! ” but he checked himself and replied 

lietly — 

“ The rose feels flattered by the compliment.” 

Then all three could not help bursting out laugh- 
ing. 

Christel and Fritz took their leave, and went away 
arm in arm, saying to each other — 

‘‘ Isn’t he a knowing fellow, that David ? He has 
always some old proverb or saying to set you laugh- 
ing. He is a real worthy man.” 

Everything was carried out as had been arranged. 
Christel and Kobus dined together. David joined 
them at dessert for coffee, and then all three adjourned 
to the brewery of the Grand Cerf. 

Fritz was in a state of extraordinary exhilaration, 
not only because he was walking between his old friend 
David and Suzel’s father, but still more because he 
had a bottle of Steinberg under his waistcoat, without 
speaking of Bordeaux and Kirchenwasser. He saw 
everything in the lower world as through a golden 
veil ; his chubby face was purple and his thick lips 
were wreathed in smiles. You may guess, then, tho 
enthusiastic welcome which greeted him as he made 
his appearance beneath the great linen awning at the 
door of the Great Stag. 

Why, here he is I ” cried all the guests, raia 


182 


Friend Fritz. 


ing their tankards aloft. “ Here is Kobus back 
again ! ” 

A:ad he, laughing, replied — 

“ Yes, here he is ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! ” 

T.ien he made his way amongst the tables and 
benches, shaking hands right and left with his old com- 
panions. During the eight days that he had been ab- 
sent it was everywhere asked, What has become of 
Kobus ? — when shall we see him back again ? ” And 
old Krautheimer was in despair, for every one found 
fault with his beer. 

At last Kobus took his seat in the midst of univer- 
sal delight and congratulation, and placed Father 
Christel on his right hand. David went off to watch 
a game of youker which Frederick Schoultz, fat Haan, 
Speck, and five or six others were playing for two 
kreutzers the deal. They were all drinking that 
famous March beer which mounts into your head 
like champagne. 

Opposite, at the tavern of the Two Keys, the 
Frederick-William Hussars were also busy with theii* 
potations, and the corks were flying like the report of 
pistols. 

Shouts and greetings were exchanged across the 
street between the two parties, for the citizens of 
Hunebourg have always been on good terms with the 
military, without associating much with them, how- 
ever, or receiving them into their families, which is 
notoriously dangerous. 

Every moment Father Christel kept repeating — 

“ It is time for me to go, Mr. Kobus. You’ll ox- 


J^riend Fritz. 


183 


case me, if you please. I ought to have beeu at the 
farm two hours ago.” 

“ Nonsense ! ” cried Fritz, clapping him on the 
shoulder. “ An occasion like this doesn’t happen 
every day, Father Christel ; it is good to enjoy oneself 
now and then. It cheers a man up and makes him 
fitter for work afterwards. Come, take another 
glass ! ” 

And the old Anabaptist, who was slightly elevated, 
sat down again, thinking to himself, “ This makes the 
sixth ! I hope I won’t fall into the ditch on my way 
home ! ” 

Then he added aloud — 

‘‘ But, Mr. Kobus, what will my wife think if I go 
home half-drunk ? She never saw me in such a state 
in all her life.” 

“ Stuff and nonsense ! The open air will set you 
all right. Father Christel, and then you have only to 
tell her that Mr. Kobus wouldn’t let you off ! Suzel 
will take your part, I am sure.” 

“ That’s true enough ! ” exclaimed Christel, laugh- 
ing ; ‘‘ that’s quite true. Everything that Mr. Kobus 
does and says is right in her eyes — so I think I’ll take 
another glass.” 

The glass made its appearance, and was soon emp- 
tied ; then the servant brought another, and so on in 
succession. 

Just on the stroke of three by the clock of St. Syl- 
vester, and as no one was thinking of anything in par- 
ticular, a group of children were seen turning the 
corner at the auherge of the Swan and running towards 


184 


Friend Fritz, 


the Landau Gate. Then several soldiers appeared 
carrying one of their comrades on a stretcher, and 
these were followed by another crowd of children, so 
that the trampling of feet on the pavement was heard 
a long way off. 

Every one was leaning out of the windows and hur- 
rying to the doors to see what was the matter. The 
soldiers were coming along the Rue dela Forge towards 
the hospital, and of course were obliged to pass the 
brewery of the Grand Cerf. In a moment all the 
games were abandoned; every one mounted on the 
benches — Haan, Schoultz, David, Kobus, the wait- 
resses, Krautheimer, and the men-servants of the inn. 
Whispers of “ It’s a duel ! it’s a duel ! ” were heard 
from one and another. 

Meanwhile the litter approached slowly, borne by 
two men. It was a sort of hand-barrow used for re- 
moving the manure from the stables of the cavalry 
barracks. The soldier was stretched at full length on 
this — his legs hanging down between the handles, and 
his head resting on his waistcoat, which was rolled up 
to serve as a pillow. His face was deadly pale, his 
eyes shut, his lips apart, and the breast of his shirt 
saturated with blood. Close behind walked the sec- 
onds, one an old hussar with yellowish eyebrows and 
a thick red moustache stretching far over his brown 
face. He carried the sabre of the wounded man under 
his arm, and the sword-belt thrown over his shoulder, 
and seemed quite composed. The other, a young fair- 
haired man, was very much agitated ; he held the 
shako; then came two non-commissioned officers who 


Friend Fritz. 


185 


turned round indignantly from time to time as if 
amazed to see such a crowd following. 

Several hussars who were seated in front of the Two 
Keys tavern cried out to the old soldier who carried 
the sabre — 

Hallo ! Kappel. What’s this ? ” 

He was doubtless, their fencing-master, but he made 
no reply, and did not even turn his head. 

As the two non-commissioned -officers passed, Fred- 
eric Schoultz, in virtue of his having formerly held 
the rank of sergeant in the Landwehr, shouted from 
the chair on which he was standing — 

“ Hollo, comrades, a word with you ! ” 

One of the two stopped. 

‘‘ What has happened, comrades ? ” 

“ Oh, merely a sabre-thrust in honor of Mile. Gre- 
del, the cook of the Red Ox.” 

“ Ah ! ” 

‘‘Yes, a smart thrust from the point — the parry 
came too late.” 

“ It took effect, then ? ” 

“ The eighth of an inch below the left nipple.” 

Schoultz shot out his under-lip. He seemed quite 
proud of getting a reply. The crowd, gathering round, 
listened eagerly. 

“ A villainous thrust,” said he, “ I have seen such 
ill the campaign of France.” 

But the hussar, seeing his comrades turning into 
the lane leading to the hospital, gave a military salute, 
and said — 

“ I ask pardon.” 


186 


Friend Fritz. 


Then he hurried on to rejoin his comrades, and 
Schoultz, looking round on the company with a self* 
satisfied air, took his seat saying — 

“ When a man is a soldier he settles his little af- 
fairs with the sabre, not like civilians who knock each 
other down with their fists.” 

He said this with an air which conveyed plainly — ■ 
‘‘I have acted in the same way myself a hundred 
times.” 

And more than one present admired him for his 
courage; but the great majority, rational and peacea- 
ble men, muttered amongst themselves — 

‘‘ Is it possible that men can murder each other for 
a cook-maid ? It is altogether contrary to nature. 
That Gredel should be chased out of the town for the 
evil passions she excites among the soldiers.” 

Fritz said nothing; he seemed to be meditating, 
and his eyes shone with a peculiar lustre. But the 
old rabbi, in his turn, having expressed his indigna- 
tion and surprise that beings created in the image of 
God should thus massacre each other for the merest 
trifles,” he burst out all at once in a most singular 
fashion : — 

“ What do you call trifles, David ? ” cried he in a 
voice of thunder. “ Has not love in all ages and in 
all countries inspired the most heroic actions and the 
loftiest tlioughts ? Is it not the breath of the Eternal 
One Himself, the principle of life, of enthusiasm, of 
courage, of devotion ? It becomes you well to profane 
as you have done the source of our happiness, and the 
glory of the human race ! Take away love from a man, 


Friend Fritz. 


187 


and what do you leave him ? Selfishness, avarice, 
drunkenness, weariness of life, and at last the mere in- 
stincts of the lower animals. What noble actions will 
he perform, whab lofty thoughts will he express ? 
N one ; he will think of nothing but filling his belly ! ” 

All the company turned round thunderstruck at 
Fritz’s burst of indignation. Haan kept his great 
goggle eyes fixed on him over Schoultz’s shoulder, 
who, in his turn, twisted his head round to see if it 
was really Kobus who was speaking. He could 
scarcely believe his ears. 

But Fritz paid no attention to these marks of sur- 
prise. 

Listen, David,” continued he, growing more and 
more animated ; when the great Homer, the poet of 
poets, tells us of the heroes of Greece setting oflf by 
hundreds in their little vessels to recover possession of 
a beautiful woman who had been carried off from their 
shores ; when he describes them crossing the seas and 
waging a war of extermination against their neighbors 
of Asia for ten years for her sake, do you think he in- 
vented all that ? Do you think it was not the truth 
that he told us ? And if he is the greatest of poets, 
is it not because he celebrated the greatest and most 
SJiblime thing under heaven — love ? And if the song 
of your King Solomon is called the Song of Songs, is 
it not because he sang of a higher love — the purest 
and deepest and noblest which can fill the heart of 
man ? When he says in his Song of Songs, ‘ Thou art 
as beautiful, oh my beloved, as the starry heavens, 
comely as Jerusalem, terrible as an army with ban 


188 


Friend Fritz. 


ners ! ’ does lie not mean that nothing is so beautiful, 
nothing so invincible, nothing so winning as love? 
And all your prophets, have they not said the same ? 
Have not all barbarian nations been converted to 
Christ by love ? And did not a simple red ribbon, the 
symbol of love, change what was little better than a 
savage race into a noble and chivalrous one ? And if 
we of the present day are less great, less beautiful, 
less noble than those of the olden time, is it not be- 
cause men no longer know anything of real love and 
marry merely for money ? I tell you, David, and I 
maintain it, that true, pure, real love is the only thing 
which can change the heart of man — the only thing 
that can purify and elevate him — the only thing 
that is worthy of all sacrifice, even that of life 
itself.” 

“ Why, how can you speak of love ? ” cried Haan 
from the other table. “ You were never in love in 
your life. It’s like a blind man talking of colors ! ” 

Fritz, thus suddenly apostrophised, seemed quite 
thunderstruck ; he stared at Haan with lacklustre eyes, 
seemingly anxious to say something in reply, but could 
only mutter a few unintelligible words as he tossed off 
his. glass. 

Several people began to laugh. Then Kobus, rais- 
ing his large head on which the thick mass of hair 
stood up like a lion’s mane, exdaimed, with a strange 
air — 

It’s true I have never been in love ; but if I were 
happy enough to be so, and to be loved in return, I 
would allow myself to be cut in a thousand pieces bO' 


Friend Fritz. 


18£ 


fore I would give up my sweetheart to any man or 
permit him to insult her ! ” 

‘‘ Oh ! ho ! ” said Haan in rather a sarcastic tone, 
shuffling the cards as he spoke, ‘‘ that’s very fine ; but 
T don’t think you would be quite so ferocious, Kobus, 
when it came to the point.” 

‘‘ Not so ferocious ! ” said he, clenching his hands, 
which were trembling with excitement. We are old 
friends, Haan — are we not ? Well, if I were in love 
and you were to attempt to interfere with me, I- — I — 
would strangle you ! ” 

In saying these words his eyes darted fire ; he look- 
ed terribly in earnest, and the laughter died away in- 
stantly around. 

“ And,” added he raising his finger, ‘‘ I would take 
care that the whole town and country round should 
show respect for her whom I had chosen, even if she 
were not of my own rank or station, and any reflec- 
tions on her should be terribly avenged.” 

‘‘ Then,” said Haan, “ we must only hope you will 
never fall in • love, for if all the hussars of Frederick 
William are not killed in the meantime, more than one 
would bite the dust if your sweetheart were a pretty 
girl.” 

Fritz’s eyebrows quivered. 

“It is quite possible,” said he, resuming his seat, 
for he had started to his feet when speaking ; “ I 
should be proud and happy to fight in such a cause. 
Am I not right. Father Christel ? ” 

“ Quite right, Mr. Kobus,” said the Anabaptist, who 
was slightly elevated; “our religion is a religion of 


190 


Friend Fritz. 


peace, but I have seen the time;, when I was in love 
with Orchel, that, God forgive me, I believe I would 
have stuck a pitchfork into any one who had attempted 
to take her from me. But, thank Heaven, I had never 
to shed blood for her ; 1 would much rather have 
nothing to reproach myself with on that score.” 

By this time Fritz, seeing that every one was observ- 
ing him, felt conscious of the imprudence he had com- 
mitted. The old rabbi David, in particular, never took 
his eyes off him, and seemed to wish to read the in- 
most recesses of his heart. A few moments afterwards 
Father Christel, having exclaimed for the twentieth 
time, ‘‘ But, Mr. Kobus, it’s getting very late, they 
will be expecting me — Orchel and Suzel will be un- 
easy,” he at last replied — 

“Well, I suppose it is time for you to be going; I 
shall go with you and see you off.” 

It was a pretext for getting out of the room. 

The Anabaptist rose, saying — 

“ Oh ! if you would like better to stay, I can find 
my way quite well to the iim.” 

“ No, no. I will accompany you.” 

They left the bench where they were sitting, and 
crossed the square. Old David took his departure 
immediately after them, and Fritz, having seen Father 
Christel off, returned prudently home. 

That same evening as they were retiring to rest, 
Sourl4, hearing the old rabbi murmuring some unintel- 
ligible words to himself, was struck with this strange 
behavior. 

“ What is the matter with you. Da rid ? ” asked she. 


Friend Fritz. 


191 


“You have been talking to yourself ever since supper. 
What are you thinking of ? ” 

“ It is all right,” said he drawing the coverlet up 
over his grey beard. “ I was pondering on the words 
of the prophet : ‘ I was jealous for Heva with a great 
jealousy ! ’ and also on these others: ‘In those days 
marvellous things will come to pass, new things, and 
of happy omen.’ ” 

“ Pray Heaven he may have been thinking of us 
when he said that,” replied Sourl6. 

“ Amen ! ” said the old rabbi. “ Everything comes 
right to those that know how to wait. Let us sleep 


CHAPTER XIV. 


Kobus the following morning had every reason to re- 
pent of his inconsiderate discourse of the previoue 
evening at the Stag. In fact, he ought to have been 
thoroughly ashamed of it, for, a few days before, hav- 
ing perceived that the wine set his tongue wagging 
in a very silly fashion, he had made several wise re- 
dections on the treacherous nature of such potations, 
and formed sage resolutions against their use. Man, 
however, is a most inconsistent animal, as every one 
knows, and therefore it was that Fritz, on awaking, 
never gave even a thought to what had taken place 
the evening before at the Stag. 

His first thought was how agreeable Suzel was in 
her personal appearance, and he began to picture her 
to himself, fancying he even heard her voice and saw 
]ier smile. 

He thought, too, of the poor girl at Wildland, and 
applauded himself for having relieved her on account 
of her resemblance to the daughter of the Anabaptist ; 
he also recalled to mind Suzel singing in chorus with 
the haymakers, and her sweet voice, rising like a sigh 
on the night air, seemed to him like the voice of an 
angel of heaven. 

All that had happened since the first early days of 
spring recurred to him like a dream. He once more 


Friend Fritz. 


193 


saw Suzel make her appearance amongst his friends 
at the dinner party, looking so simple and modest, 
with shrinking air and downcast e3’es ; he saw her at 
the farm, in her little blue woollen petticoat, washing 
the family linen ; and, again, seated beside himself at 
the spinet, all timid and trembling, whilst he sang 
the old air — 

“ Chloe, lovely maid, 

To you my heart has strayed, 

For you I pine and die.” 

And as he thought of all these things with tender de- 
light, his gi'eatest desire was to see Suzel again. 

‘‘ I shall go to Meisenthal,” said he to himself. 
“ Yes, I shall set out immediately after breakfast — I 
must and shall see her at once.” 

Thus were the words of the rabbi David to his wife 
fulfilled 

‘‘ In those days marvellous things shall come tc. 
pass ! ” 

These words referred to the change in Kobus, 
and showed also the great shrewdness of the old 
rabbi. 

Wliile pulling on his stockings it occurred to Fritz 
that Father Christel had told him the evening before 
that Suzel was to go to the fUe at Bischem to assist 
her grandmother to make the tarts. He opened his 
eyes to their utmost extent as this thought struck him, 
and said to himself after a moment’s deliberation — 

“ Suzel must be gone already ; the fUe of Bischem 
falls on St. Peter’s Day, which is to-morrow.” 

9 


194 


FAend Fritz. 


He appeared to be meditating deeply on something 
Katel entered to lay the table. He breakfasted with 
a tolerably good appetite, and immediately after, clap- 
ping on his broad -leafed felt-hat, he went out to take 
a turn through the square where fat Haan and tall 
Schoultz were in the habit of walking every morning 
between nine and ten o’clock. But this morning he 
could not see them anywhere, which annoyed Fritz, as 
he had resolved to take them with him the next day 
to the fUe at Bischem. 

“ If 1 go there alone,” thought he, “ after what I 
said yesterday at the Stag, they will probably suspect 
something; people are so ill-natured, and especially 
the old women, who are so fond of busying them- 
selves about things that don’t concern them ! I must 
bring two or three companions with me*, and then it 
will look like a party of pleasure to eat veal pdites and 
drink small white wine — a simple relaxation from the 
ordinary routine of existence. 

He mounted on the ramparts, therefore, and made 
the circuit of the town to see what had become of 
Haan and Schoultz ; but he could not discover them 
anywhere in the streets, and concluded that he should 
find them playing a game of skittles at the Pannier 
of Flowers, kept by Father Baumgarten, outside the 
walls, on the banks of the Losser. 

Following up this idea, Fritz proceeded as far as the 
Hildebrandt gate, and looking in the direction of the 
copse- wood — which is about half a cannon-shot from 
Hunebourg — he fancied he. could distinguish several 
figures behind the old willows. 


Friend Fritz. 


195 


Overjoyed at the sight, he descended the slope, pass- 
ed through the gate, and set out along the path which 
leads to the river bank. After a quarter of an hour’s 
walk, he could hear at some distance off Haan’s great 
peals of laughter, and Schoultz’s loud voice exclaim- 
ing— 

“ Two ! I haven’t a chance ! ” 

And peeping through the foliage in front of the 
cottage, whose overhanging roof descended within 
three or four feet of the ground, whilst its whitewash- 
ed front was covered with the branching tendrils of a 
magnificent vine, he discovered his two companions in 
their shirt-sleeves — ^having thrown their coats on a 
hedge — and two others, Hitzig, the mayor’s secretary — 
his wig perched on the top of his cane, which he had 
stuck into the ground — and Professor Speck, all four 
engaged in knocking down ninepins at the end of an 
alley of willows which ran along the side of the 
house. 

Fat Haan was standing solidly planted on his legs, 
the ball held in front of his nose, his face purple with 
excitement, his eyes almost starting out of his head, 
his lips pressed tightly together, and his three or four 
scattered hairs standing up round his bald head as 
stiff as ramrods. He was taking aim ! Schoultz and 
the old secretary watched him, with backs bent nearly 
double, and rocking themselves gently to and fro with 
their hands crossed behind them. The little Sepel 
Baumgarten, at the farther end of the alley, was set- 
ting up the pins as they were knocked down. 

At last Haan, after long and careful calculation. 


196 


Friend Fri^z. 


gave a grand sweep with his arm and away rolled the 
bowl in a majestic curve. 

Instantly were heard loud cries of “ Five ! ” and 
Schoultz stooped to take up a bowl, while the secre- 
tary seized Haan by the arm and began to speak to 
him, raising his finger and gesticulating rapidly, doubt- 
less to point out to him some fault which he had com- 
mitted. Haan, however, appeared not to listen to him, 
but kept his eyes fixed on the pins, and then walked 
away and resumed his seat upon the bench, where he 
gravely filled his glass. 

This little country scene delighted Fritz. 

‘‘ They are just in the humor for a frolic,” thought 
he ; ‘‘I have only to play my cards well and the whole 
thing will be settled at once.” 

He advanced towards them, therefore. 

Frederick Schoultz, looking taller and thinner than 
ever, after carefully balancing his bowl for a long time, 
had just thrown it ; it was flying onwards Kke a hare 
breaking out of cover, and Schoultz, with his arms in 
the air, was shouting — The king ! the king ! ” when 
Fritz, who had walked up behind him, burst into a 
laugh, saying — 

‘‘ Why, Schoultz, that’s a grand stroke Come 
hither till I crown you with laurels ! ” 

A 11 the party turned round instantly and exclaimed — 
It’s Kobus ! Why, Kobus, we seldom see you 
here ! You are welcome — most welcome ! ” 

“ Kobus,” said Haan, ‘‘you must join our game. 
We have ordered a capital dish of fried fish, and, faith, 
ray lad, you will have to pay for it ! ” 


Friend Fritz. 


197 


All right ! ” said Fritz, laughing, ‘‘ I ask no bet- 
ter. I’m not a strong player, but no matter, I’ll do 
my best to beat you.” 

“ Good ! ” cried Schoultz, ‘‘ the game has begun. I 
am fifteen, and we’ll give you that number. Will that 
suit you ? ” 

“ So be it,” said Kobus, taking ofiT his coat and 
seizing a bowl ; “ I’m rather curious to know if I have 
quite forgotten the game since last year.” 

‘‘ Father Baumgarten ! ” cried Professor Speck — 
** Father Baumgarten ! ” 

The innkeeper appeared. 

“ Bring a glass for Mr. Kobus and another bottle. 
Are the fried fish nearly ready ? ” 

« Yes, Mr. Speck.” 

“You may put a few more in the pan, as you see 
we have got an addition to our number.” 

Baumgarten, his back bent like a ferret’s, trotted 
back to the house, and at the same instant Fritz fired 
off his bowl with such force that it fell like a bomb 
on the other side of the alley in a field belonging to 
the postmaster. 

I leave you to imagine the delight of the others , 
they threw themselves back on the benches, kicking 
their heels in the air, and laughed to such a degree 
that Haan had to undo several buttons of his waistcoat 
for fear of suffocation. 

At last the fried fish made their appearance, a splen- 
did dish of gudgeon, all crackling and glistening with 
dripping like a flower-bed sparkling with morning dew, 
and diflusing a delicious odor around. 


198 


Friend F'itz, 


Fritz had lost the game, and Haan, slapping him ;i 
the shoulder, exclaimed in high delight — 

“ Why, Fritz, you’re quite a strong player, a very 
strong player ; only take care another time that you 
don’t knock a hole in the sky out in the direction of 
Landau ! ” 

Then they all took their seats, in their shirt-sleeves, 
round the little rickety table, and set to work, laugh- 
ing and joking, but each nevertheless taking care to 
secure a good portion of the fried fish. The iron forks 
came and went like a weaver’s shuttle, the jaws gal- 
loped, whilst the foliage overhead threw its flickering 
shade over the animated faces, the great flower-pat- 
terned dish, the diamond-cut goblets, and the tall 
yellow bottle filled with the sparkling wine of the 
district. 

Close to the table, squatting on his bushy tail, sat 
M41ac, a little wolfish-looking animal belonging to the 
Pannier of Flowers, as white as snow, with jet black 
nose, cocked ears, and glistening eyes. Now one, 
and then another, threw him a morsel of bread or the 
tail of a fish, which he snapped up before it reached 
the ground. 

It was a pretty picture. 

‘‘ Faith,” said Fritz, ‘‘ I am very glad I came here 
this morning. I was tired to death ; I didn’t know 
what to do with myself. It’s very stupid work always 
going to that Stag ! ” 

“ Hallo ! ” exclaimed Haan, “ if you find the Stag 
stupid it isn’t your fault at all events, for I’m blessed 
if you didn’t give us some good fun there yesterduy. 


Friend Fritz. 


199 


you took us all in nicely with your quotations from 
the poets. Ha, ha, ha ! ” 

‘‘ Yes,” said tall Schoultz, raising his fork, “ ifi. 
know now how to take this grave friend of ours — 
when he looks serious you are to laugh, and when he 
laughs you are to be on your guard.” 

Fritz laughed heartily. 

Ah, then, you smelled a rat,” said he — and I 
who thought ” 

“ Kobus,” interrupted Haan, “ we know you this 
long time — you needn’t try to take us in. But to re- 
turn to what you were saying just now, it is unfortu- 
nately too true that this frequenting of taverns plays 
the deuce with us all after a time. If you see so 
many hundreds of men who are old before their time, 
a set of asthmatic, bloated, broken- winded creatures, 
affected with gout, gravel, and dropsy, it comes from 
drinking the beer of Frankfort, Strasburg, Munich or 
some other place ; for beer contains too much water ; it 
renders the stomach indolent, and when the stomach 
doesn’t do its duty all the members suffer.” 

“That is quite true, Mr. Haan,” said Professor 
Speck ; “ better drink two bottles of good wine than a 
single glass of beer. They contain less water and 
therefore dispose less to gravel. Water deposits less 
gravel in the bladder, every one knows that ; and, on 
the other hand, fat is also produced by water-drinking. 
A man, therefore, that drinks nothing but wine has 
every chance of keeping thin for a very long time, and 
leanness is much more easily borne than obesity.” 

“ Csrtainly, Mr. Speck, certainly,” replied Haan ’ 


200 , 


Fi'iend Fritz. 


“ when you want to fatten cattle you give them wa 
tor mixed with bran ; if yoi. gave them wine to drink 
they would never grow fat. But, besides that, what 
man requires is movement. Motion keeps our joints 
in proper working order, and prevents them creaking 
like cartwheels that want grease, which is a most dis- 
agreeable thing. Our ancestors, who were a far-seeing 
race, to prevent this inconvenience had games of 
nine-pins, climbing greased poles, running in sacks, 
skating and sliding parties, not to speak of dancing, 
hunting, and fishing ; but in the present day games at 
cards are all the fashion, and this is why the race is 
degenerating.” 

“ Yes, it’s deplorable,” exclaimed Fritz, emptying 
his glass, “ perfectly deplorable ! I remember in my 
young days all the good folks went to the country 
fairs and festivals with their wives and children, but 
now they stick close to the fireside, and it’s quite an 
event when they go outside the walls of the town. At 
those village fUes they used to sing, and dance, and 
shoot at a mark ; they changed the air, and for this 
reason our ancestors lived often till they were a hun- 
dred. They had the color of health in their cheeks, 
and knew nothing of the infirmities of age. What a 
pity that these are now so completely deserted ! ” 

“ Oh ! that,” exclaimed Haan, who was a great 
authority on ancient manners and customs, “ that 
results from the extension of the means of communi- 
cation. Formerly, when high roads were scarce and 
when our country by-roads had no existence, you did 
not see so many commercial travellers going about, 


Friend Fritz. 


201 


offering, some their pepper and cinnamon, others their 
brushes and currycombs, and others, again, their stuffs 
of all sorts, in every village. You had not then the 
grocer, the hardware merchant, and the clothier at your 
own doors. Every family waited till such and such a 
fair in order to make purchases for their household, 
and consequently these fairs were richer and hand 
somer, and the merchants, being sure of selling their 
wares, came from a great distance. These were th< 
palmy days of the fairs of Frankfort, Leipsic, and Ham- 
burg in Germany ; of Li^ge and Ghent in Flanders ; 
and of Beaucaire in France. In the present day the 
fairs, one may say, are perpetual, and even in out 
smallest villages you find whatever you want in ex- 
change for your money. Everything has its good and 
bad side. We may regret the sack races and the 
shooting matches without blaming the natural pro 
gress of commerce.” 

‘‘ But for all that we are asses to remain stuck in 
one place all the days of our life,” replied Fritz, ‘‘ when 
we might amuse ourselves, drink a good bottle of 
wine, dance, laugh, and enjoy ourselves in all sorts of 
ways. If one had to go to Beaucaire or to Flanders 
for all that he might think it a little too far, but when 
we have most agreeable close beside us, quite in 
the old style, it seems to me that we couldn’t do 
better than go to them.” 

“ What are they ? ” cried Haan. 

“ Why at Hartzwiller, at Borbach, at Klingenth41. 
And stay ! without going so far, I remember that 
my father used to take me every year to the fHe at 

9 * 


202 


Friefod Fritz, 


Bischem^ where we got such delicious / Oh, most 
delicious ! ” 

He smacked his lips as he spoke ; Haan gazed at 
him eagerly. 

‘‘ And then we had crawfish as large as your fist, 
much better crawfish than those in the Losser, and 
washed them down with a very — well, a very 
passable white wine, not Johannisberg nor Stein- 
berg, of course ; but it made us very merry neverthe- 
less.” 

“ But why did you not tell us all that long ago ? ” 
cried Haan ; “ we should have been there to a cer- 
tainty. You are right, perfectly right.” 

“ Well, really I didn’t think of it.” 

“And when does this fUe come off?” asked 
Schoultz. 

“ Stay, let me think ; on St. Peter’s Day.” 

“Why, that’s to-morrow ! ” exclaimed Haan. 

“ Faith, I believe it is,” said Fritz. “ How curious 
that it should happen so ! Well, what do you say? 
Shall we go to Bischem ? ” 

“ Of course we will ! Of course we will ! ” ex- 
claimed Haan and Schoultz in one breath. 

“ And what about these gentlemen ? ” 

Speck and Hitzig excused themselves on account of 
their official duties. 

“Well, we three will go,” said Fritz, rising. “ Yes, 
I have always had the pleasantest recollections of 
the crawfish, the pdtes^ and the small white wine of 
Bischem.” 

“We shall want a carriage,” observed Haan. 


Friend Fritz. 203 

“All right,” said Fritz, paying the bill; “ I’ll 
arrange all that.” 

A few moments afterwards the party of hons-vivanti 
were on their way to Hunebourg, and one could hear 
them half-a-league off celebrating the praises of the 
village pdtes, the Kougelhof^ and the Fuchlen, which 
they said reminded them of the happy days of their 
childhood. One spoke of his aunt, another of his 
grandmother — you would have thought they expected 
to meet those departed worthies and have a glass of 
the small white wine together, at the approaching fU^ 
of Bischem. 

It was thus that Fritz had the satisfaction of being 
able to meet Suzel withou t giving the alarm to any 

one. 


CHAPTER XV. 


Vou may imagine whether Kobus was pleased or not, 
Visions of magnificence and grandeur floated before 
his mind. He wanted to see Suzel and to show him- 
self to her in unaccustomed splendor. He wished in 
some sorr to dazzle her. He could think of nothing 
handsome enough to strike her with admiration. 

On ordinary occasions he would have hired the 
caniage and the old blind horse of one Hans Nickel 
for the excursion, but now such a course seemed to 
Kobus utterly unworthy of him. Immediately after 
dinner he took his cane from behind the door and 
walked out to the posting establishment on the road 
to Kaiserslautern, kept by Johann Eanen, who had 
ten post-carriages in his coach-house and eighty post- 
il orses in his stables. 

. Eanen was a man about sixty years of age, the pro- 
prietor of the great meadows on the banks of the 
Losser, a rich man and yet simple in his manners. He 
was stout and short, and was dressed in a linen stable 
jacket and large horsehair hat. His beard, which was 
fast turning grey, was of eight days’ growth, and his 
round yellow cheeks were all furrowed with deep semi- 
circular lines. It was in this trim that Fritz found 
him, superintending the grooming of his horses in the 
yard of tlie post-house. 


FHend JPritz. 


205 


Fanen, who recognized his visitor a considerable 
way off, came forward to meet him at the gate, and 
raising his hat, said — 

“ Good day, Mr. Kobus ! To what am I indebted 
for the honor of a visit from you ? ” 

‘‘ Mr. Fanen,” replied Fritz, smiling, ‘‘ I intend to 
make a little party of pleasure to the fHe of Bischem 
to-morrow with my friends Haan and Schoultz. All 
the vehicles belonging to the town are engaged on 
account of the hay harvest ; there is not so much as a 
char-a-banc to be had ; so I said to myself, ‘ Why not 
go to Mr. Fanen’s and hire a postchaise ? Twenty or 
thirty florins won’t be the death of a man, and when 
one wishes to take a little pleasure it is better to do 
things handsomely.’ That’s my way.” 

The postmaster thought this reasoning unanswer- 
able. 

“ Mr. Kobus,” said he, “ you have done well, and 
1 quite approve of your ideas. When I was young I 
liked to drive in good style myself, and although I am 
old now I have still the same tastes. Your ideas are 
right and proper for people who are able to afford it 
like you and me.” 

He then conducted Kobus into the coach-house, 
where there was a variety of carriages built in the 
newest Parisian fashion, as light as feathers, painted 
with armorial bearings, and so graceful and elegant 
that you might have put them in a drawing-room as 
tasteful pieces of furniture. 

Kobus thought them extremely handsome, but never- 
theless a natural taste for the sumptuous and grand 


206 


Friend Fritz, 


made him prefer a roomy chariot lined with silk, a 
little heavy in appearance it is true, but one, as Fanen 
told him, that was particularly suitable for persons of 
distinction. He made choice of it, therefore, and then 
Fanen conducted him into his capacious stables. 

In an immense building, about one hundred and 
twenty yards long by sixty broad, with whitewashed 
ceiling, supported by twelve pillars of oak, were ranged 
in two lines, separated from each other by wooden par- 
titions, sixty horses — grey, black, brown, and dappled, 
with round shining quarters, crimped and knotted 
tails, broad flat limbs and lofty crests ; some pawing 
the ground and neighing, others pulling hay from 
their racks, and others, again, turning round to see 
who was approaching. The light, which was admitted 
through two lofty windows at the farther extremity, 
streamed in long lines of gold throughout the length 
of the building, throwing the shadows of the massive 
pillars on the paved floor, which was exquisitely clean, 
and as solid under the tread as a rock. The whole 
effect had in it something beautiful and even grand. 

The grooms and stable-boys were busy currying and 
rubbing down the animals who had just come in, and 
a postillion, dressed in a little blue jacket laced with 
silver, his glazed hat perched on the back of his head, 
was leading a horse towards the door, doubtless a 
courier about to start with despatches. 

Old Fanen and Fritz passed slowly along behind 
the horses. 

“ You will want two,” said the postmaster, “ choose 
for yourself.” 


Friend Fritz. 


207 


Kobus, after a careful inspection, made choice of 
two stout dappled grey animals who would go like the 
wind. Then he accompanied Mr. Fanen to his office, 
and pulling out a long green silk purse with gold tas- 
sels, he paid the account on the spot, telling him that 
he wished the carriage to be at his door the following 
morning about nine o’clock, and requesting that he 
might have as postillion old Zimmer, who had for- 
merly driven the Emperor Napoleon I. 

This being arranged and settled, old Fanen con- 
ducted him outside the gate, and there, having shaken 
hands, Fritz, in a high state of delight, set off to re- 
turn to the town. 

While walking along he pictured to himself the 
surprise of Suzel, old Christel, and all Bischem when 
they saw them roll into the village with cracking of 
whip and blowing of horn, and a strange thrill of de- 
light and tenderness shot through him, especially 
when he thought of little Suzel’s admiration. 

In these reflections the time passed rapidly, and 
he was close to Hunebourg almost before he was 
aware. Here the first objects which met his eyes 
were the old rabbi David, dressed in his handsome 
marone-colored coat, and Sourll, in her magnificent 
lace cap with broad yellow ribbons, walking along 
the little path which leads past the gardens at the 
foot of the glacis. It was their usual custom to take 
a turn outside the walls every Sabbath day, walking 
arm-in-arm like a pair of young lovers, and each time 
David would say to his wife — 

“ Sourl4, when I see these green fields, this waving 


^08 


Fn^nd Fritz, 


grain, and the river flowing slowly past, I feel young 
again. I can fancy us still in the days of our court 
«hip, and I praise God for all His mercies.” 

Then the good old woman was thoroughly happy, 
for David spoke sincerely and without flattery. 

The rabbi had also seen Fritz over the hedge as he 
approached the entrance of the covered way, and 
shouted to him — 

“ Kobus ! Kobus ! This way 1 ” 

But Fritz, dreading lest the old rabbi might joke 
him about his harangue at the brewery of the Stag, 
shook his head and proceeded on his way. 

“ Some other time, David, some other time,” said 
1 e ; “I am in a hurry just now.” 

And the rabbi, smiling slily in his old beard, 
thought to himself — 

“ You may escape me now, but I will catch you 
by-and-by.” 

At length, about four o’clock, Kobus reached home. 
Although the windows were thrown wide open, it 
was very warm, and it was with a sense of positive 
pleasu^’e that he rid himself of his overcoat. 

‘‘"We must now see about our clothes and linen,” 
said he, in great spirits, taking the keys of his wardro.be 
out of his desk. ‘‘ I must astonish Suzel — I must 
throw all the handsome bachelors of Bischem into 
the shade. She must dream of no one but me. May 
the genius of taste assist me to dazzle all beholders ! ” 

He opened the three large presses which reached 
from floor to ceiling. Mrs. Kobus, his respected 
mother, and his grandmother, Nicklausse, had had a 


Friend Fritz, 


209 


passion for fine linen, as his grandfather had for good 
wine. You may imagine from this what a quantity 
of damask tablecloths, red-bordered napkins, pocket 
handkerchiefs, shirts, and webs of linen were stored 
up in these receptacles — it was incredible. Old Katel 
spent the half of her time in opening out and folding 
up these articles, in order to air them, as well as in 
powdering them with reseda, lavender, and a thou- 
sand other sweet-smelling odors to keep oflT the moth. 
In addition to all this, the skins of two kingfishers, 
with their green and gold plumage, were suspended 
by the beaks from the top of the wardrobe — these 
birds having the reputation of banishing insects. 

One of these presses was filled with antique gar- 
ments, three-cornered hats with cockades, wigs, plush- 
coats with silver buttons as large as cymbals, gold and 
ivory headed canes and powder-boxes with large swans- 
down brushes — all dating from the time of grandfather 
Nicklausse. Nothing was changed ; these old worthies 
might have returned to earth and dressed themselves 
in the style of the last centurjr, without ever being 
conscious of their long slumber. 

In another compartment was Fritz’s own wardrobe. 
Every year he had his measure taken for a complete 
suit by Hercules Schneider, the tailor of Landau, and 
although he never wore these clothes, it was a satisfac- 
tion for him to think — 

‘‘ I could be in the fashion as well as fat Haan if I 
liked. Fortunately I like my old coat better — every 
one to his taste.” 

Fritz now stood in rapt contemplation before all 


310 


Ft lend Fritz. 


these trecasures. The idea occurred to him that Suzel 
might perhaps have a taste for handsome linen, like 
his mother and grandmother Kohns, and that in that 
case she would add to these household treasures, would 
carry the large bunch of keys by her side, and would 
stand in ecstasy, morning and evening, before these 
presses. 

The idea touched and softened him, and he hoped 
sincerely that this might be the case. 

“ For,” said he, ‘‘the love of good wine and hand- 
some linen makes comfortable housekeeping.” 

But the object at present was to choose the hand- 
somest shirt, the finest pocket-handkerchief, the hand- 
somest pair of stockings, and the handsomest suit of 
clothes that could be found. That was the difficulty. 

After looking over them for a long time, Kobus, in 
a great state of embarrassment, called out — 

“ Katel ! Katel ! ” 

The old servant, who was knitting in the kitchen, 
opened the door. 

“ Come in, Katel,” said Fritz to her ; “ I am in 
a great puzzle. Haan and Schoultz insist on me go- 
ing wi th them to the file at Bischem, and as they 
pressed the matter so much, I consented. But then 
every one will be at this fete — hundreds of Prussian 
judges and officers— a lot of showy fellows, dressed in 
the last Parisian style, who look scornfully over their 
shoulder at us poor Bavarians. So the question is, 
what dress sh ill I wear ? I know nothing of these 
matters myself — it isn’t in my way at all.” 

K^tel’s little eyes twinkled. She was delighted to 


Friend Fritz. 


211 


find that her assistance was required in &o grave a 
matter, and laying down her knitting on the table, she 
said — 

‘‘You did well, sir, to call me. Thank God it is 
not the first time that 1 have given my advice as to 
the proper dress to be worn on stated times and occa- 
sions. Your worthy father, the justice of the peace, 
used to send for me when he was going to pay a visit 
of ceremony, and it was I who told him — ‘ Saving 
your favor, Mr. Justice, you want this thing or the 
other.’ And I wasn’t far wrong either, for every one 
in the town acknowledged that for a handsome, per- 
sonable man, the match of Mr. Kobus wasn’t to be 
met with anywhere.” 

“ Yes, yes, Katel, I quite believe you, and I am 
glad to hear what you say, although the fashions have 
changed greatly since then.” 

“ The fashions may change as much as they please,” 
replied Katel, advancing towards the steps in front of 
the wardrobe, “ but reason and sense never change. 
We must first look for a shirt. It’s a pity that small- 
■ clothes aren’t worn now, for you have a well-shaped 
leg like your father, and a wig would have become you 
well — a handsome full-bottomed wig in the French 
style — it was magnificent ! But now-a-days peasants 
and gentlemen are all alike. Well, you will see that 
one day or other the old fashions will come back again. 
We want something to tell us the difference of ranks ! ” 

Katel had by this time mounted on the step-ladder, 
and was carefully choosing a shirt. Fritz looked on 
from below in silence. At last she came down again, 


212 


Friend Fritz, 


carrying a shirt and a pocket-handkerchief spread oid 
on her hands, and laying them on the table with an aii 
of veneration, she said — 

‘‘ This is the principal thing. We shall see if your 
Prussians have shirts and pocket-handkerchiefs like 
these. These, Mr. Kobus, were the shirts and hand- 
kerchiefs which your father the justice always wore on 
great occasions. Just look for a moment at the fine- 
ness of this cambric, and the magnificence of this frill 
with its six rows of lace, and these ruffles, the hand- 
somest that ever were seen in Hunebourg. Only look 
at these birds with their long tails and these leaves 
worked in the openings ! Did you ever see such beau- 
ties in your life ? ” 

Fritz, who knew no more of such matters than if he 
had been an inhabitant of the moon, passed his fingers 
over the lace frills, and stood looking at them with an 
air of ecstasy, while the old servant, crossing her hands 
over her apron, loudly expressed her enthusiasm. 

‘‘ Would any one believe, sir, that women’s hands 
could ever have made that ? ” said she. “ Isn’t it 
wonderful ? ” 

‘‘ Yes, it’s very handsome,” replied Kobus, thinking 
of the effect he would produce on little Suzel with this 
superb shirt-front spread over his stomach, and these 
ruffles reaching down over his knuckles. ‘‘Do you 
think, Katel, there are many people who will be capa- 
ble of appreciating such work ? ” 

“ Many people ! All the women, to begin with, sii 
— all. If they had been herding geese until they were 
fifty they would all know whf<,t was rich, handsome, 


Friend Fritz. 


213 


and ^ecoming. A man who bad on a shirt like that, 
if he was the greatest fool in Christendom, would 
stand first in their eyes. And it’s right he should, 
too, for if he has no sense himself, his parents have 
had it for him.” 

Fritz burst into a hearty laugh. 

‘‘ Ua ! ha ! ha ! You have some droll ideas of your 
own, Katel,” said he ; “ however, I fancy you are not 
far wrong. But now we want the stockings.” 

** Here they are, sir — a pair of silk stockings. Just 
feel how soft and fine they are. Mrs. Kobus knit them 
herself with needles no thicker than hairs — a wonder- 
ful piece of work. But now-a-days they make every- 
thing in the loom, and see wliat stockings they have 1 
They are quite right to hide them under their panta- 
loons.” 

In this way the old woman prattled on, and Kobus, 
more and more delighted, exclaimed — 

‘‘ Yes, yes, they will do admirably, and if we can 
only find a tolerable suit of clothes, I think these 
Prussians will not have much cause to laugh at us.” 

‘‘ For goodness’ sake,” said Katel, “ don’t be for 
ever dinning those Prussians into my ears ! A set of 
poor devils who haven’t ten thalers in their pockets, 
and who put everything thej’’ have in the world on 
their backs in order to make a figure. We are an- 
other sort of folks altogether ; wc know where we can 
lay our head down at night, and thank Heaven it isn’t 
on the hard ground. We know, too, where to put 
our hand on a good bottle of wine if we want one. 
We are well-known, established people in the country 


214 


Friend Fritz, 


When Mr. Kobus’s name is mentioned ever/ ont 
knows that his farm is at Meisenthal, his beech wooaa 
at Michelsberg ” 

‘‘No doubt, no doubt; but they are handsome fel- 
lows these Prussian officers, with their great mous* 
taclies, and more than one young girl if she saw 
them ” 

“ Don’t think young girls are such fools,” interrup- 
ted Katel, who was just then employed in taking a 
number of coats out of the wardrobe and spreading 
them on the table ; “ girls know well enough the differ- 
ence between a bird in the air and one on the spit. 
Nine out of ten like a comfortable fireside better than 
trotting about the country after a regiment, and, de- 
pend on it, the girls who prefer the Prussians are not 
worth looking after. But look — here is your stock 
of coats — there’s plenty of pick and choice, you see.” 

Fritz carefully examined his wardrobe, and, after a 
few minutes’ reflection, he said — 

“ This cloak with the black velvet collar, Katel, 
seems to me just the thing.” 

“ What can you be thinking of, sir ? ” exclaimed tl e 
old woman, clasping her hands ; “ a cloak to wear with 
0 shirt with lace ruffles ! ” 

“ And why not ? It’s magnificent cloth.” 

“ Do you wish to be dressed or not, sir ? ” 

“Of course I do.” 

“Well, take this sky-blue body-coat. See! it has 
never been on once.” 

She uncovered the gilt buttons, ^hich were still 
wrapped up in silk paper. 


Friend Frxtz, 


215 


“ 1 don’t know much of the new fashions, hut this 
•oat seems to me tohavealiandsome air about it. It’s 
simple, well cut, and also light for the season ; and 
then sky-blue suits fair people best. It seems to me, 
sir, that this coat would become you nicely.” 

“ Let’s see how it fits.” 

She put on the coat. 

“ It’s magnificent ! Only look at yourself in the 
glass ! ” 

“ And henind, Katel ? ” 

“It is admirable behind, sir. It makes quite a 
young man of you. 

Fritz, who was examining himself in the mirror, 
turned red with pleasure. 

“ Are you quite sure, now ? ” 

“ It’s as true as the gospel, sir. I couldn’t have 
believed it. It’s those great loose coats you wear that 
make you look ten years older than you are. It’s 
really astonishing.” 

She passed her hand down the back. 

‘‘ Not a wrinkle ! ” 

Kobus gave a pirouette on his heel, and exclaim' 
ed— 

“I shall take this coat. Now for a waistcoat. 
Something superb, you understand ; in the style of 
this one, now, but with more red.” 

Katel could not help laughing. 

“ Why, sir, you are like the peasants of Kokesberg, 
who cover themselves with red from the chin to the 
knees : A red waistcoat with a sky-blue coat ! Why 
ihey would laugh at you through the length and b/eadtii 


216 


Friend Fritz. 


of Prussia, and for once the Prussians would be in the 
right of it.” 

“ What shall I wear, then ! ” asked Fritz, laughing 
himself at his first idea. 

“ A white waistcoat, sir, a white embroidered neck- 
tie, and your handsome fawn-colored trousers. See 
here, just look for yourself.” She placed the several 
articles together at the end of the table. ‘‘ All these 
colors are made for each other ; they go beautifully 
together. You will feel light and pleasant ; you can 
dance if you please, and you will look younger by ten 
years than you do now. How ! don’t you see that ? 
Must a poor old woman like me tell you what becomes 
you ? ” 

She began to laugh, and Kobus, looking at her with 
surprise, said — 

“It’s quite true. I think so seldom about my 
clothes ” 

“ And that’s where you’re wrong, sir ; dress makes 
the man. I must polish your light boots, too, and 
then you will be complete. All the girls will fall in 
love with you.” 

“ Oh,” cried Fritz, “ now you are joking me.” 

“ No, sir, since I have seen your figure as it ought 
to be, I have quite changed my way of thinking 
about that — he ! he ! he ! Only you must tighten 
in your waist a little. But tell me, sir, if you 
should happen to meet a pretty girl at the fair that 
pleases you, and in the end you should — he! he! 
he!” 

And the old woman looked at him and laughed wit] 


Iriend Fritz, 


217 * 


her toothless gums, while he grew fiery red, and could 
not find a word to say in reply. 

“ And what about you ? ” said he at last ; “ what 
would you say ? ” 

‘‘ 1 should be very pleased.” 

“ But you would no longer be mistress in the house.” 

‘‘ Eh ! good gracious, mistress ! — to do everything, 
to look after everything, to keep everything in order. 
Ah ! if we could only get a young mistress, good- 
tempered and active, who would take all that off my 
shouldeis, I should be right glad. All I would ask 
is to be allowed to nurse the little ones.” 

“ Then you wouldn’t be annoyed now, seriously 
speaking ? ” 

“ Quite the opposite ! What ! don’t you see that I 
am getting stiffer in my joints every day ? my old limbs 
won’t move as they used to do. That can’t go on for 
ever. I am sixty-four . years of age, sir — sixty-four, 
well told, and ” 

“ Nonsense ! You make yourself out older than you 
are,” said Fritz, inwardly well satisfied with her wish, 
which accorded so well with his own. ‘‘ I never saw 
you more lively or active.” 

“ Ah ! you don’t look very closely, sir.” 

“ Well, well,” said he, laughing, “ after all, tho 
principal thing is to have everything in proper style 
for to-morrow.” 

And once more he examined his handsome coat, hia 
white waistcoat, his embroidered cravat, his fawn- 
colored trousers, and his lace-frilled shirt. Then look- 
ing at Katel, who was waiting — 

10 


• 218 


Friend Fritz. 


“ This is all ? ” said he. 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Well, now I think I’ll go and have a glass of 
beer.” 

“ And I must see about the supper.” 

He took his great meerschaum pipe from its hook 
in the wall, and walked out, whistling like a blackbird, 
while Katel returned to the kitchen. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


The following morning, about half-past eight, the tall 
Sohoultz, looking gay and debonnaire, and dressed 
in a suit of nankeen from top to toe, his little whale- 
bone cane in his hand, and his washleather shooting- 
cap squarely planted over his long, brown, rather vin- 
ous-looking face, mounted Kobus’s stairs four at a 
time. Haan, in a little green frock-coat and black 
velvet waistcoat with green flowers, all covered with 
chains and trinkets, and wearing a magnificent white 
beaver hat with long hair, followed slowly after, his 
fat hand resting on the banister, and his broad pumps 
creaking at every step. He seemed in high spirits, 
and expected doubtless to find their friend Fritz in his 
grey overcoat and rust-colored trousers as usual. 

“ Well, Katel,” cried Schoultz, peeping through the 
half-open kitchen door as he passed, well, is he 
ready ? ” 

Walk in, gentlemen, walk in,” said the old ser- 
vant, smiling. 

They crossed the hall, and stood rooted to the ground 
at the entrance of the great dining-room. Fritz was 
there before the glass, dressed like a dandy of the first 
water, with his sky-blue coat, which fitted him like a 
glove, his fawn-colored trousers showing the tournure 
of his leg to perfection, his fresh, rosy, glistening chin, 


220 


Fric'ixd Fritz. 


ruddy cheeks, ami curling hair, and his maize-colored 
gloves carefully buttoned underneath his lace ruffles. 
In short he was a regular picture of Cupid about tc 
launch his arrows. 

“ Oh ! ho ! Oh ! ho ! ” exclaimed Haan. ‘‘ Hallo, 
Kobus ! Why, what on earth ” 

And his voice died away in utter astonishment. 

Schoultz, on his side, didn’t utter a word, but stood 
with outstretched neck, his hands resting on the top 
of his little cane. At last he managed to stammer 
out — 

“ This is regular treachery on your part, Fritz ; 
you want to make us pass for your domestics. It 
won’t do, I tell you — I can’t stand it.” 

Then Kobus, turning round with a sort of soft 
troubled look in his eyes, for he was thinkipg of little 
Suzel, said — 

“ Then you think they become me ? ” 

“ That is to say,” exclaimed Haan, “ that you mean 
to crush us — to annihilate us ! Now I should like to 
know why you prepared this ambuscade for us.” 

‘‘ Why ! ” said Kobus, laughing ; ‘‘ on account of 
the Prussians.” 

“ How ? On account of the Prussians ? ” 

‘‘ Certainly. Don’t you know that hundreds of 
Prussians come every year to the fete of Bischem, a 
iSet of boasting, saucy fellows, dressed in the height 
of the fashion, and looking down on us poor Bava- 
rians ? ” 

“ I give you my word I never heard of it,” said 
Haan 


Friend Fritz. 


m 


“For my part,” exclaimed Schoaltz, “if I had 
known that I would have put on my landwehr uni- 
form ; it would have cut a better figure than a nan- 
keen jacket. It would have shown our national 
spirit; they would then have seen a representative of 
the army.” 

“ Never mind,” said Fritz, “ you look very well as 
you are. 

All three looked at themselves in the glass, each 
perfectly satisfied with his appearance, insomuch that 
Haan exclaimed — 

“ Everything considered, Fritz is quite right. If 
he had told us beforehand we should have been bet- 
ter dressed of course, but for all we shall make a very 
respectable figure.” 

And Schoultz added — 

“ For my part, gentlemen, I am in undress. I am 
going to Bischem in a quiet way, merely to see what 
is going on and amuse myself.” 

“ Why, what are we going for ? ” said Haan. 

“Yes, but I am more in my usual way. A nan- 
keen coat is always simpler and more natural at a 
country of this kind than lace frills and ruffles.” 

Then, turning round, he saw on the table a bottle 
of Forstheimer, three glasses, and a plate of biscuits. 

Fritz gave a last glance at his cravat, the bow of 
which had been arranged by Katel in tlie highest 
style of art_, and was perfectly satisfied with the 
effect. 

“ Let us rave a glass of wine,” said he ; “ the 
carriage will soon be here now.” 


222 


Friend Frits. 


They took their seats, and Schoultz, tossing off * 
glass of the Forstheimer, said sententiously — 

“ All this is very well, but to drive into Bischem 
dressed as you are, in an old char-d-hanc stuffed with 
straw, you must admit is not quite in keeping. It 
is too great a contrast — I would say it was even a lit- 
tle vulgar.” 

“ Oh ! ” cried the fat collector, ‘‘ if you want to be 
quite at your ease, you should go in a blouse and ride 
an ass. Every one knows that country gentlemen 
haven’t theii* equipage always at their elbow. They 
visit t\iQ f He en passant. You don’t want all sorts of 
grandeur when you go out for a little fun ! ” 

They chatted on in this way for about twenty min- 
utes, and Fritz, seeing the hour approaching on the 
dial of the timepiece, listened attentively from time 
to time. All at once he exclaimed — 

“ Here comes the carriage ! ” 

The two others listened for a few seconds, but could 
distinguish nothing but a sort of distant roll, accom- 
panied by the loud cracking of a whip. 

“ That’s not it,” said Haan ; ‘‘ that must be some 
carriage travelliug post on the high road.” 

But the rolling sound came every moment nearer, 
and Kobus could not retain his smiles. At last the 
vehicle turned the corner of the street, and the crack 
of the whip sounded like pistol-shots through the 
Square of the Acacias, while the sharp trot of the 
horses and the rattle of the wheels over the pavement 
were now distinctly audible. 

All three rose to their feet, and leaning out of the 


Friend Fritz. 


223 


window saw the carriage which Fritz had ordered ap 
preaching at a trot, and the old postillion Zimmer 
with his great hempen wig curling about his ears, his 
v»hite waistcoat, silver embroidered jacket, buckskin 
breeches, and huge boots coming up above his knees, 
looking up into the air and cracking his whip first on 
one side and then on the other. 

“ Now for the road ! ” exclaimed Kobus. 

He clapped on his hat, whilst the two others stood 
looking at each other in amazement. They could not 
believe that the carriage was for them, and it was 
3nly when it stopped before the door that Haan burst 
into a roar of laughter, exclaiming — 

‘‘ Capital ! capital ! Kobus is doing the thing in 
style this time. Ha ! ha ! ha ! What a joke ! ” 

They descended to the street, followed by the old 
housekeeper, smiling, and Zimmer, seeing them ap- 
proaching across the vestibule, turned round in his 
saddle, saying — 

“ To the minute, Mr. Kobus, you see, to the min- 
ute ! ” 

‘‘ Yes, Zimmer, you are just in time,” said Fritz, 
opening the door of the carriage. “ Now, gentlemen, 
step in. Can’t we pull back the cover ? ” 

“ Pardon me, Mr. Kobus ; you have only to turn 
the button and it will fall back of itself.” 

They mounted into the carriage as happy as princes. 
Fritz took his seat and pulled back the hood. He 
was on the right, Haan on the left, and Schoultz in 
the middle. 

More than a hundred curious faces were gazing at 


224 : 


Frieiid Frits. 


them from the doors and windows, for j»osting carriage! 
seldom passed through the Street of tlie Acacias, 
but went along the high street, and it was therefore a 
rare sight to see one in the square. 

I leave you to imagine Haan’s and Schoultz’s de- 
light. 

“ Hallo ! ” exclaimed Schoultz, tapping his pockets, 
“ I have left my pipe lying on the table.” 

‘‘We have cigars,” said Fritz, passing the case 
round. 

They all lighted their cigars forthwith and began to 
smoke, leaning back on the cushions with their legs 
crossed, their noses in the air, and their arms folded. 

Katel appeared as happy as any of the party. 

“ Are we ready, Mr. Kobus ? ” asked Zimmer. 

“Yes, drive on ; but go gently until you pass the 
Hildebrandt gate.” 

Zimmer cracked his whip, caught up the reins, and 
the horses set off at a gentle trot, whilst the postillion 
put his horn to his lips and filled the air with lusty 
flourishes. 

Katel stood in the doorway looking after them until 
they disappeared round the corner of the street. They 
proceeded in this way throughout the whole length of 
Hunebourg, the pavement echoing under the tramp of 
their horses’ feet, the windows filling with astonished 
faces as they passed along, w^hile they themselves, lean- 
ing back carelessly on the cushions like lords, smoked 
on without turning their heads, and looked as if the} 
had never done anything in their lives but loll at theii 
ease in carriages. 


Friend Ftitz. 


225 


At last to the sharp rattle of the pavement succeeded 
the duller sound of the high road ; the carriage rolled 
underneath the Hildebrandt gate, and Zimmer, passing 
his horn round behind his shoulder, resumed his whip. 
Two minutes afterwards they were %ing along like the 
wind in the direction of Bischem ; the horses pranc- 
ing, and jumping, and whisking their tails in the air; 
the click-clack of the whip sounding far and wide over 
the country ; whilst the poplars, the fields, the mead- 
ows, and thickets shot past them like lightning. 

Fritz, with beaming countenance and upturned eyes, 
was dreaming of Suzel. He saw her already in imagi- 
nation, and at the bare idea his eyes filled with tears. 

‘‘ Will she be surprised to see me ? ” thought he. 
“ Does she suspect anything ? Ah, no, she can’t ; but 
soon, soon she will know all — I will tell her every- 
thing ! ” . 

Fat Haan continued to smoke gravely. Schoultz 
had thrown his cap into the hood of the carriage, to 
allow the breeze to play through his long hair, which 
was fast turning to grey. 

“ Now this is what I call travelling ! ” said Haan. 
‘‘ Don’t mention those old rattle-traps — those cabbage- 
baskets that dislocate every bone in your body. I 
have had my own share of them ; but to fly along in 
this style is quite another thing. You may believe 
me or not as you like, Kobus, but I could get accus- 
tomed to this sort of thing in less than a fortnight.” 

‘‘ Ha !' ha ! ha ! ” exclaimed Schoultz, I believe il 
firmly. I must say you are not hard to please.” 

Fritz was still sunk in reverie. 

10 * 


226 


Friend Iritz. 


“ How much farther have we to go ? ” said he tc 
Zimmer. 

‘‘ About two hours’ drive, sir.” 

Then he thought — 

“ If she is only there — if old Christel hasn’t changed 
his mind ! ” 

This fear threw a gloom over his spirits ; but an 
instant afterwards his confidence returned, and the 
blood rushed hotly to his cheeks again. 

‘‘ She is there,” thought he ; “I am sure of it. 
is impossible that she shouldn’t be there.” 

And whilst Haan and Schoultz lolled back at their 
ease on the cushions and yielded themselves to the 
gentle sway of the carriage, smiling inwardly with 
pleasure, and letting the smoke glide gently from their 
lips so as thoroughly to enjoy its flavor, he was start- 
ing up every few minutes, looking about him on every 
side, and thinking that the horses did not go half fast 
enough. 

An hour’s drive brought them past two or three 
villages, then came a couple more, and at last the 
berline began to descend into the valley of Alten- 
bruck. Kobus suddenly recollected that Bischem was 
on the other side of the hill opposite. He thought 
the ascent of this hill the most tedious part of the 
journey, but at last they reached the summit, and 
Zimmer, cracking his whip, cried — 

- b onder is Bischem ! ” 

Almost at the same moment they came in sight of 
the ancient n^arket-town nestled in the valley below, 
yith its tortuous street lined ^ith antic^ue-looking 


Friend Fritz. 


227 


houses, its fa9ades ornamented with worm-eaten carv 
ings, its wooden galleries, outside staircases, wide 
porte-cocheres^ on which were nailed the effigies of 
marauding hawks or owls, its steep tiled or flagged 
roofs recalling the warlike days of Margraves, Land- 
graves, Armleders, Swedes, and Republicans, the 
whole built, burned down, and rebuilt twenty times, 
from century to century ; a house here dating from 
the time of Hoche, another there from the time of 
Melac, and a third, farther on, from the time of Bar- 
barossa. 

And then the wide three-cornered hats, the black 
winged headdresses, the red waistcoats, the laced bodi- 
ces with their snowy shoulder-straps, going and coming, 
turning and gazing, the dogs barking, the geese and 
fowls scattering on all sides with endless screaming 
and clamor — such were the sights which met their 
eyes as the berline dashed along the principal street 
at a hard gallop, Zimmer sitting bolt upright, with 
squared elbows, and sounding a fanfare fit to wake the 
dead. 

Haan and Schoultz gazed complacently on all these 
sights, and enjoyed the general admiration which the 
appearance of the party excited. At a turning of 
the street they caught a glimpse of the square of the 
Deiix-Boucs, the ancient fountain, the Madame 
Hi’itto, built of pine planks, the wooden stalls of the 
shop-keepers, and the moving and jostling crowd, but 
it was gone in a moment. Farther on they came in 
sight of the old church of St. Ulrich, with its two 
lofty towers, surmounted with slated pinnacles, 9,nd 


228 


Friend FHtz. 


connected by roM's of round-topped arches of the time 
of Charlemagne. 

The bells were sounding a merry peal, service was 
just over, and the crowd of worshippers were de- 
scending the steps of the portico, gazing around them 
with amazement at the bustling scene. All that, too, 
passed like a flash. 

• In Fritz’s mind there was one absorbing idea — 
‘‘ Where is she ? ” At every house which they passed 
he leaned forward as if he expected that little Suzel 
was just about to issue from it. At every balcony, 
on every staircase, before every door, whether round 
or square, whether surrounded with climbing vine or 
bare and uncovered, he gave an eager glance, which 
said — “ It may be that she is there ! ” 

If he happened to spy a pretty face in the shade of 
some dark alley, peeping from behind a window-blind, 
or dimly seen in the background of an apartment, he 
felt sure he had seen her. He would have known 
even a ribbon of Suzel’s at the first glance. But he 
could see her nowhere, and at last the berline turned 
into the square of the Yieilles Boucheries, and stopped 
opposite the hotel of The Golden Sheep. 

Fritz immediately remembered the old inn ; it was 
there that his father used to stop five-and-twenty years 
before. He recognized the great porte-cochere leading 
into the rough paved courtyard, the wooden gallery 
supported on its massive pillars, the twelve windows 
with their green jalousies, and the little vaulted 
entrance-door with its worn and hollow steps. 

A few minutes before, the sight of these well-remem- 


Friend Fritz, 


229 


bered objects would have called up a thousand pleas- 
ing associations in his mind, but now he was all 
anxiety lest he should not see ittle Suzel, the bare 
idea of which filled him with dismay. 

It was plain that the auberge must be very full 
of guests, for no sooner was the noise of the carriage- 
wheels heard in the square than a number of heads 
were seen leaning out of the windows, and amongst 
them several Prussian officers, with their flat caps 
and larse moustaches. Two horses were tied to rings 
projecting from the wall, and their riders stood in the 
doorway looking on. 

As soon as the berline stopped, the old innkeeper, 
Loerich, tall, calm, and dignified, wearing a cotton 
cap over his white hair, came forward and pulled 
down the steps with a majestic air, saying — 

“ Will your lordships be pleased to alight ? ” 

Then Fritz exclaimed — 

“ What ! Father Loerich, do you not remember 
me? ” 

The old man stared at him in great surprise. 

‘‘ Ah, my dear Mr. Kobus ! ” said he, after a 
moment’s pause, how like your father you are ! Will 
you excuse me ? I ought to have known you at once.” 

Fritz jumped out of the carriage, and replied, 
laughing - - 

‘‘ There is no need to apologize. Father Loerich ; 
twenty years make a good deal of difference in a 
man’s appearance. Allow me to present to you my 
field-marshal, Schoultz, and my prime minister, Haan 
We are travelling incognito.” 


230 


Friend Fritz, 


The guests who were lookiug out of the windowa 
at their arrival could not help smiling, especially the 
Prussians ; which annoyed Schoultz. 

‘‘I could play the field-marshal as well as a good 
many others,” said he, “ that is, I could give orders 
for an assault or a battle, and stand calmly looking 
on at it from a distance.” 

Haan was in too good a humor to be angry. 

“ At what hour is dinner ? ” inquired he. 

“ At noon, sir.” 

They entered the hall, whilst Zimmer took the 
horses out of the carriage, and led them away to the 
stables. The hall opened at the back into a garden ; 
to the left was the kitchen, from which the measured 
ticking of the roasting jack, the crackling of the fire, 
and the rattling of saucepans could plainly be heard 
issuing. Servant-maids were hurrying across the hall, 
some carrying plates, others glasses, whilst in the back- 
ground the head-waiter was seen coming up the cellar 
steps with a hamper of wine. 

“We want a private room,” said Fritz to the inn- 
keeper. “ I should like the one you call Hoche’s.” 

“ You can’t have that one, Mr. Kobus ; the Prus- 
sians have engaged it.” 

“ Well, give us the one next it.” 

Father Loerich preceded him up the great staircase. 
Schoultz, who had often heard of General Hoche’s 
chamber, asked which it was. 

“ There it is, sir,” said the innkeeper, throwing open 
the door of a large room on the first landing. “It was 
there that the republican generals held a council of war 


Friend FHtz. 


231 


on the 23d of DeceDiber, 1793, three days before the 
attack on the lines of Wissembourg. See, Hoche stood 
in that spot.” 

He pointed to a large metal stove, which was fixed 
in an oval recess to the right. 

“ Then you saw him ? ” 

“ Yes, sir; I remember it as if it was yesterday. I 
was fifteen years old then. The French were encamped 
all about the village. The generals never slept night 
or day. One evening my father sent me upstairs, 
telling me to look well about me. The French generals, 
with their tri-colored scarfs about their waists, their 
great cocked hats worn across their heads, and their 
sabres trailing on the floor, were walking up and down 
this apartment. 

“ Every moment officers came in, all covered with 
snow, to ask for orders. As every one was talking of 
Hoche, I was very curious to know which was he, and 
I crept along close to the wall, gazing about me with 
my nose in the air at all these tall men who were 
making so much stir in the house. 

“ Just then my father entered the room, and coming 
up to me caught me by the sleeve and whispered, 
turniiig quite pale as he spoke, ‘ He is just beside you ! ’ 
I turned round and saw Hoche standing in front of 
the stove, with his hands crossed behind his back and 
his head drooping on his breast. He looked nothing 
compared to the other generals, with his blue frock- 
coat, large turned-down collar, and his boots and steel 
spurs. I think I see him still. He was a man of 
middle height, with brown complexion and rather long 


532 


Friend Fritz. 


shaped face. His great mass of heir was parted iu the 
middle, and fell down low over each cheek. Amidst 
all the bustle and noise around him, he seemed sunk in 
tlioiight, and paid no attention to what was going on. 
That same night, at eleven o’clock, the French marched 
away ; the following day there was not one to be seen 
in the village or the neighborhood around. Five or 
six days afterwards the news spread that a battle had 
been fought, and that the imperial troops were routed. 
It was very likely on that spot that Hoche planned the 
attack.” 

Father Loerich told all this very simply, whilst his 
auditors listened in great delight. Then he showed 
them into an adjoining room, asking them if they 
preferred having dinner in their own apartment. 
They decided, however, on joining the table dhote 
below, and went down stairs again with their host. 

The great salle-ci-manger was full of company. Three 
or four travellers, with their portmanteaus on chairs 
beside them, were waiting for the diligence to Landau ; 
a number of Prussian officers were walking two and 
two up and down the room ; several country shop- 
keepers were dining in an adjoining apartment ; whilst 
the inhabitants of the town were already taking their 
places at the immense table, covered with a snow-white 
cloth, on which were ranged long rows of sparkling 
carafes and neatly-folded napkins. 

Every moment fresh visitors made their appearance 
at the door, and either gave a glance round the room 
and went away, or else entered and sat down. 

Fritz ordered a bottle of Pudesheim, in preparation 


Friend Fritz. 


233 


for dinner, and then gazed about rather impatiently 
at the magnificent indigo and yellow ochre landscapes 
on the walls, representing Switzerland and its glaciers, 
with William Tell shooting the apple from off his 
sou’s head, and then leaping ashore from Gessler’s 
bark, and spurning it backwards over the surface of 
the lake with his foot. His mind was still runnina 
on Suzel. 

Hann and Schoultz in the meantime were doing full 
justice to the wine. 

At this moment the sound of voices singing in 
chorus was heard outside, and almost immediately 
afterwards the windows were darkened by the passing 
of a large country waggon, followed at a short distance 
by a second. 

Every one rushed to the windows. 

It was a party of peasants on their way to embark 
for America. Their carts were loaded with old cup- 
boards, wooden bedsteads, mattresses, chairs, and 
chests of drawers. Large tarpaulins supported on 
uprights were stretched over the loads, and under- 
neath these numbers of little children, and poor old 
women, quite decrepit with age and their hair as white 
as snow, were seated on bundles of straw, looking 
calmly on, while five or six wretched horses, their 
loins covered with dog-skin rugs, plodded slowly on 
with their heavy burthen. Behind marched the men 
and women, with three old patriarchs, the latter bent 
nearly double and bareheaded, supporting themselves 
on sticks. They sang in chorus : 


234 


Friend Fritz. 


“Where is the German’s Fatherland ?” 

Where is the German’s Fatherland ? ” 

And the old men replied — 

“ America ! America ! ” 

The Prussian officers muttered to each other-* • 

“ Those people ought to be arrested ! ” 

Haan, overhearing this remark, could not help 
replying in a sarcastic tone — 

“They are saying that Prussia is the German’s 
fatherland. They should have their necks wrung 
about ! ” 

The officers looked askance at him ; but he showed 
no sign of fear, and even Schoultz held up his head 
with a dignified air. 

Kobus had risen quietly from his seat and slipped 
out, apparently to give some order in the kitchen. At 
the end of a quarter of an hour Haan and Schoultz, 
not seeing him come back, felt a good deal surprised, 
the more so that the soup-tureens were being carried 
in, and all the guests were taking their seats at the 
table. 

Fritz had remembered that at the farther end of a 
little lane, which ran behind Bischem, there lived two 
or three families of Anabaptists, and that his father 
had been in the habit of stopping opposite their doors 
to purchase a sack of dried prunes before returning o 
Hunebourg. So, thinking that Suzel might possibly 
be with them, he had slipped down into the garden of 
the Golden Sheep, and from the garden into the little 
lane which skirted the village. 


Friend Fritz. 


235 


Having reached it he bounded forward like a bare, 
his anxiety to meet Suzel having by this time risen 
almost to a pitch of fury. Who would have been more 
surprised than he if any one had told him three 
months before that he would ever find himself in such 
a state ? 

At length, perceiving the high grey-tiled roof of the 
Anabaptist’s dwelling rising above the surrounding 
orchards, he glided gently along the hedgerow until 
he was nearly opposite the entrance-gate, and there, 
to his delight, he discovered, standing between the 
great square manure-heap and the old ivy -covered 
front. Father Christel’s waggon, a sight which made 
his heart leap with joy. 

“ She is here ! ” said he to himself. ‘‘ She is here ! 
What a lucky dog I am ! I was determined to see her, 
if I had to remain here three days for the purpose.” 

He could scarcely feast his eyes enough with gazing 
at the waggon. All at once Mopsel bounded into the 
lane, barking furiously in his desire to welcome an old 
acquaintance. At this sound Fritz wheeled about and 
took to his heels, ducking down behind the hedges 
like a thief, for, notwithstading his joy, he felt a sort 
of shame at the idea of such an escapade, and was 
overwhelmed with confusion at the possibility of being 
discovered. 

‘‘ If any one should see you,” thought he, “if any 
one should find out what you were about, good gra- 
cious, how they would laugh at you, Fritz ! But no 
matter, for so far everything has gone well. I am in 
great luck I ” 


236 


Frierid Fritz^ 


He adopted the same precautions on his return ti 
the Golden Sheep which he had taken on leaving it, 
and got safely in without being remarked. The sec- 
ond course was on the table when he entered the din- 
ing-hall. Haan and Schoultz had taken care to keep a 
seat for him between them. 

‘‘ Where the deuce have you been ? ” inquired 
Haan. 

“ I was anxious to see Dr. Rubeneck, an old friend 
of my father’s,” said he, fastening his napkin under- 
neath his chin, ‘‘ but I have learned that he has been 
dead these two years.” 

He forthwith set to work with a good appetite, and 
as a superb eel d la moutarde was j ust then placed on 
the table, Haan did not think it judicious to put any 
further questions. 

During the whole dinner Fritz did nothing but 
repeat to himself, with a face beaming with pleasure, 
“ She is here ! ” 

His great prominent eyes at times contracted with a 
tender expression, and then opened to their fullest 
extent, like those of a cat sleepily watching a gnat 
hovering above her head in the sunlight. 

He ate and drank with a sort of desperate energy, of 
which, however, he was quite unconscious. 

Outside the weather was magnificent. The princi- 
pal street rang with the sound of mirth and song, the 
squeaking of wooden trumpets, and bursts of laughter. 
The people in their holiday costume, their hats gar- 
nished with ribbons, and bonnets dazzling with flowers, 
were streaming along arm-in-arm towards the square 


Friend Fritz. 


237 


of the Two Goats. Now one and then another of the 
party rose from the table, threw his napkin over the 
back of his chair, and left the room to join the crowd 
outside. 

At two o’clock, Haan, Schoultz, Kobus, and two oi 
three Prussian officers were the only ones that re 
mained at table, with the dessert and an array of empty 
bottles before them. 

At this moment Fritz was roused from his reverie 
by a loud blast of trumpets and French horns, an- 
nouncing that dancing had begun. 

“ Suzel is already there, perhaps,” thought he. 

And knocking on the table with the handle of hia 
knife, he called out with a stentorian voice — 

“ Father Loerich ! Father Loerich ! ” 

The old innkeejjer made his appearance. 

Then Fritz, with a knowing smile, asked — 

‘‘ Have you still some of that small white wine — you 
know, that sparkling little wine which Judge Kobus 
was so fond of? ” 

‘‘ Yes, we have still some of it left,” replied the 
innkeeper in the same jocular tone. 

‘‘ Well, bring us two bottles,” said he, with a mean- 
ing wink. ‘‘ I always liked that wine, and I shan’t be 
sorry to let my friends here taste it too.” 

Father Loerich left the room, and a few minutes 
after returned holding under each arm a bottle, the 
cork of which was carefully covered with lead, and 
fastened down with brass wire. He also carried pin- 
cers for cutting the wire, and three tall slender glas» 
^8 on a salver. 


238 


Friend Fritz. 


Then Haan and Schoultz saw what the small whit* 
wine was, and looked at each other, smiling. 

“ He ! he ! he ! ” said Haan, ‘‘ onr friend Kobus un* 
derstands a joke as well as most men; he calls this a 
small white wine ! ” 

And Schoultz, glancing at the Prussians with the 
corner of his eye, added — 

“ Yes, a small white wine of France. This isn’t 
the first time we have drunk it ; but down yonder, in 
Champagne, we knocked the necks ofi* the bottles with 
our sabres.” 

And so saying he curled up the ends of his small 
grey moustache with his fingers, and pulled his cap 
knowingly over one ear. 

The cork struck the ceiling with a noise like the 
report of a pistol, and the glasses were filled with the 
foaming nectar. 

To our friend Fritz’s health ! ” cried Schoultz, 
raising his glass. 

And the foaming nectar disappeared like a shot 
down his long stork-like neck. 

Haan and Fritz followed his example, and three 
times in succession they all executed the same manoeu- 
vre, each time in rapturous delight with the bouquet 
of the small white wine. 

The Prussians now rose with a dignified air and left 
the room. Kobus, uncorking the second bottle, said — 

“ Schoultz, at times you boast in a very unbecoming 
way. I would like very much to know if your batta- 
lion of landwehr ever got further than the little fort- 
ress of Phalsbourg, in Lorraine, and if you ever drank 


Friend Fritz. 


239 


anything down yonder stronger than the white wine 
of Alsace ? ” 

“ Bah ! never mind !” exclaimed Schoultz ; is there 
any need to be particular with these Prussians ? I am 
the representative here of the Bavarian army, and all 
I can tell you is, that if we had met with any cham- 
pagne wine on our march, I would have drunk mj 
share of it. Was it any fault of mine that I chanceo 
on a barren country ? Was it not the fault of Field- 
marshal Schwartzenberg, who sacrificed us foreigners 
to keep his stupid Austrians in good condition ? Don’t 
speak to me about that, Kobus; whenever I think of 
it I get nearly beside myself with rage. For two 
whole marches we saw nothing but pine-trees, and at 
the end of that we came on a lot of scoundrels who 
crushed us with great stones, hurled down on us from 
the rocks above — a pack of barefooted ruffians, regular 
savages. I give you my word it was a good deal pleas- 
anter to toss ofl* bumpers of good wine in Champagne 
than fight such a set of frantic savages in the Y osges 
mountains ! ” 

“ Come, come, don’t get into a passion,” said Haan, 
laughing. “We are quite of your opinion, although 
you should remember that thousands of both Austri- 
ans and Prussians left their bones to bleach in Cham- 
pagne ! ” 

“ Yes,” said Fritz ; “ and who knows but we are 
drinking at this moment the essence of some fat Aus- 
trian corporal or other ? ” 

All three burst into a roar of laughter at this sally ; 
the wine was beginning to tell upon them. 


240 


Friend Fritz. 


Ha ! ha ! ha ! Now for the dance ! ” said Kobn£., 
rising. 

‘‘ To the dance ! ” repeated the others. 

They emptied their glasses, standing, and left the 
room with rather a vacillating step, and laughing so 
loudly that every one in the high street t arned round 
to look after them. Schoultz lifted his long grasshop- 
per legs almost to his chin at every step, while his arms 
worked like the sails of a windmill. 

“ 1 defy Prussia ! ” shouted he in a shrill, squeaking 
voice ; “ I defy every Prussian in the service, from the 
lowest corporal to the field-marshal hiiiiself ! ” 

And Haan, with his nose as red as a peony, his 
cheeks of the brightest vermilion, and his great eyes 
swimming in moisture, stammered out — 

‘‘ Schoultz ! Schoultz ! in the name of Heaven 
moderate your warlike ardor ; don’t bring down on us 
the whole army of Frederick William. We are men 
of peace, men of order ; let us respect the memory of 
our old Fatherland.” 

“ No, no ! I defy them all ! ” exclaimed Schoultz ; 
‘‘ let them come on ! I’ll show them what an old Ba- 
varian sergeant can do. Old Germany for ever ! ” 

More than one Prussian whom they met laughed in 
his long moustaches on listening to this tirade. 

Fritz, flushed with the idea that he was about to see 
Sazel again, was in a state of ecstasy impossible tc 
describe. 

‘‘ All the young girls go to the Madame Hutte, es- 
pecially on the first day of the/e^e,” said he to him 
self ; “ Suzel must be there ! ” 


Friend Fritz. 


241 


This idea raised him to the seventh heaven ; he fairly 
brimmed over with happiness, and sainted the acquaint- 
ances whom he met with an air of tender delight. But 
when he reached the square of the Two Goats, where 
gay flags were floating over the wooden building, and 
recognised in the concluding notes of a hopser the vio- 
lin of his friend Joseph, he was fairly intoxicated with 
joy, and, pulling his companions forward, he began to 
exclaim — 

“It is Joseph’s troupe! It is Joseph’s troupe! 
Are we not in wonderful luck ? ” 

As they reached the entrance of the Hutte the hop^ 
ser had just ended, the people were thronging out of 
the building, the trombone, clarionet and fife were 
tuning for another dance, while the last sounds of the 
great drum were still echoing through the wooden 
walls. 

They entered, and saw, encircling the hall, the rows 
of benches raised one above another, and filled with 
gaily-dressed young girls, old papas, and sober mothers 
and grandmothers, while the pillars supporting the gal- 
leries and roof were decorated with branches of oak, 
and beech, and garlands of moss. 

The animation was extreme. The dancers were 
promenading their partners about the hall, or con- 
ducting them to their seats. Fritz, perceiving in the 
distance the woolly locks of his friend Joseph amongst 
the olive faces of the orchestra, could not contain his 
enthusiasm, and, waving his hat in the air, called out, 
“ Joseph ! Joseph ! ” while the spectators rose from 
their seats on all sides to see who was the oon-vivani 
11 


242 


Friend Fritz. 


who so far fjrgot himself as to utter such cries. Bu^ 
when they perceived Haan, Schoultz, and Kobus ad- 
vancing arm in-arm along the floor, laughing and talk- 
ing at the top of their voices, their faces purple with 
wine and excitement, and oscillating slightly from side 
to side, an immense burst of laughter rang through 
the building, and every one said to his neighbor — 

“ There is a party of fellows who seem to have dined 
pretty well. Aren’t they enjoying themselves? ” 

In the meantime Joseph had turned round on hear- 
ing his name called, and, recognizing Kobus, raised 
his bow and violin in token of welcome, and, hurry- 
ing down the steps of the gallery while Kobus mount- 
ed, they met half-way and embraced before the gaze of 
the surprised spectators. 

“ Who the deuce can that be ? ” said they. ‘‘ A 
man dressed in that style to allow himself to be 
hugged by a Bohemian ! ” 

And Bockel, Andres, and the whole orchestra, lean- 
ing over the railing, loudly applauded the spectacle. 

At last Joseph, regaining his former position, raised 
his bow and said — 

‘‘ Listen ! Here is Mr. Kobus, of Hunebourg, a 
friend of mine, who is going to dance a treieleins with 
his two companions. Has any one any objection ? ” 

“ No, no — let them dance ! ” was shouted on all 
sides. 

“Then,” said Joseph, “I shall play a waltz, the 
waltz of Joseph Alm^ni, which he composed when 
thinking of him who befriended him on a day of great 
distress. This waltz, Kobus, no one has ever heard 


Friend Fritz. 


243 


till this moment, except Bockel, Andres, and the trees 
of the Tannewald. Choose yoUj therefore, a fair part 
ner agreeable to your heart, and do you, Haan and 
Schoultz, choose also yours ; none but you shall dance 
the waltz of Almdni.” 

Fritz, turning about on the orchestra steps, cast a 
look around the hall, and for a moment began to fear 
that he should not find Suzel. Pretty girls were not 
wanting — black and brown, fair and auburn, all were 
on the qui-vive in a moment, looking eagerly at Kobus 
and blushing when their looks met his, for they felt it 
a great honor to be chosen by such a handsome man, 
especially to dance the treieleins. But Fritz did not 
see their blushes, did not see them straightening them- 
selves up like the huzzars of William Frederick on 
parade, flattening their shoulders and primming their 
mouths. He paid no attention to all this parterre of 
youth and beauty thus budding into new life under 
his gaze ; what he was looking for was the humble 
little forget-me-not — the little blue flower, the symbol 
of love and memory. 

Long he searched, every moment becoming more 
and more uneasy, but at last he discovered her away 
in the distance, half concealed behind a garland of 
oak-leaves, which drooped from a pillar to the right 
of the entrance. Scarcely visible through the leafy 
screen, Suzel was sitting with drooping head and 
timid downcast eyes, stealing a glance now and then 
towards the orchestra, at once fearful and desirous of 
being seen. 

She had no adornment but her beautiful fair hair 


244 


Friend Fritz. 


fallinj^ on her shoulders in two long plaits ; a blue silk 
handkerchief was folded across her bosom, and a little 
velvet bodice showed off her "raceful figure to advan- 

O O 

tage. Beside her sat her grandmother, Annah, as up- 
right as the figure 1, her grey hair pushed back under 
a black cap, and her arms hanging down stiffly by her 
side. These })eople had not come to dance, but mere- 
ly to look on, and had stationed themselves quite on 
the outskirts of the crowd. 

Fritz’s cheeks fiushed ; he descended the steps of 
the orchestra and crossed the hall amidst the general 
attention. Suzel, seeing him coming, turned quite 
pale, and had to lean against the pillar for support. 
She dare not look again. He ran up the steps, pushed 
aside the garland, and took her hand, saying in a low 
voice — 

“ Suzel, will you dance the treieleins with me ! ” 

Lifting her large blue eves towards his as if in a 
dream, Suzel from being quite pale turned scarlet. 

“ Oh, yes, Mr. Kobus,” said she, looking at her 
grandmother. 

The old woman after waiting for a moment, bent 
her head, and said, “ It is well — ^you may dance.” 
For she knew Fritz from having seen him formerly 
when he came to Bischem with his father. 

They descended, therefore, into the hall. The 
stewards of the dance, their straw hats streaming with 
ribbons, made the round of the hall close to the rail- 
ing, waving little flags to keep back the crowd. Haan 
and Schoultz were still walking about looking for part- 
ners ; J oseph was standing bfdbre his desk waiting , 


Friend Fritz. 


245 


Bockel, his doiil j bass resting against his outstretched 
leg, and Andres, his violin under his arm, were sta- 
tioned close beside him, as they alone were to accom- 
pany the waltz. 

Little Suzel, leaning on Fritz’s arm, in the midst of 
the crowd of spectators, cast stolen glances around, 
her heart beating fast with agitation and inward de- 
light. Every one admired her long tresses of hair, 
which hung down behind to the very hem of her little 
blue skirt with its velvet edging, her little round-toed 
shoes, fastened with black silk ribbons, which crossed 
over her snow-white stockings, her rosy lips, her 
rounded chin, and her graceful flexible neck. 

More than one pretty girl scrutinized her with a 
searching glance, trying to discover something to find 
fault with, while her round white arm, bare to the 
elbow after the fashion of the country, rested on 
Fritz’s with artless grace ; but two or three old women, 
peering at her with half-shut eyes, laughed amidst 
their wrinkles, and said to each other quite loud, 
“ He has chosen well ! ” 

Kobus, hearing this, turned towards them with a 
smile of satisfaction. He too would have liked to say 
something gallant to Suzel, but he could think of 
nothing — he was too happy. 

At last Haan selected from the third bench to the 
left a woman about six feet high, with black hair, a 
hawk nose, .and piercing eyes, who rose from her seat 
like a shot and made her way to the floor with a 
majestic air. He preferred this style of woman; she 
was the daughter of thf‘ burgotnaster. Haan seemed 


246 


Friend Fritz. 


quite proud of his choice ; he drew himself up and 
ai ranged the frill of his shirt, whilst the tall girl, whc 
out-topped him by half a head, looked as if she was 
taking charge of him. 

At the same moment Schoultz led forwai d a little 
roundabout woman, with the brightest red hair possi- 
ble, but gay and smiling, and clinging tight to his 
elbow as if to prevent him making his escape. 

They took their places, in order to make the circuit 
of the hall, as is the usual custom. Scarcely had 
they completed the first round when Joseph called 
out — 

‘‘ Kobus, are you ready ? ” 

As his only answer, Fritz seized Suzel by the waist 
with his left arm, and holding her hand aloof with the 
other, after the gallant manner of the eighteenth cen- 
tury, he whirled her away like a feather. Joseph 
commenced his waltz with three strokes of his bow. 
Every one understood at once that something strange 
was to follow — a waltz of the spirits of the air, which 
they dance on summer nights when nothing is to be 
seen but a streak of reddish light in the distant hori- 
zon, when the leaves cease their rustling, when the 
insects fold their wings to rest, and the chorister of 
the night preludes his song with three notes, the first 
low and deep, the second tender, and the third so 
full of life and passion that every noise is hushed to 
listen. 

So commenced Joseph, having many a time in his 
wandering life taken lessons from the songster of the 
night, his elbow resting on some mossy bank, his head 


Friend Fritz: 


247 


supported on his hand, and his eyes closed in a sort of 
dreamy ecstasy of delight. Then, rising in animation, 
like the grand master of melody with his quivering 
wings, who showers down every evening around the 
nest where his well-beloved reposes more floods of 
melody than the dew showers pearly drops on the 
grass of the valley, the waltz commenced, rapid, spark- 
ling, wild — the spirits of the air soared aloft, drawing 
Fritz and Suzel, Haan and the burgomaster’s daugh- 
ter, Schoultz and his partner, after them in endless 
gyrations. Bockel threw in the distant murmur of 
the mountain torrents, and the tall Andres marked 
the time with rapid and joyous touches, like the cries 
of the swallows cutting the air, for inspiration comes 
from Heaven, and knows no law but its own fantasy, 
while order and measure reign on this lower earth ! 

And now picture to yourself the amorous circles of 
the waltz crossing and interlacing in never-ending suc- 
cession, the flying feet, the floating robes, rounding 
and swelling in fan-shaped curves ; Fritz holding lit- 
tle Suzel in his arms, raising her hand aloft gracefully, 
gazing at her with delight, whirling around at times 
like the wind, and then slowly revolving in measured 
cadence, smiling, dreaming, gazing at her again, and 
then darting ofi* with renewed ardor ; whilst she, with 
her waist undulating in graceful curves, her long tress- 
es floating behind her like wings, and her charming 
little head thrown backwards, gazed at him in ecstasy, 
her little feet scarcely ton 3hing the ground as she 
flew along. 

Fat Haan grappling his tall partner with uplifted 


248 


Friend Fritz. 


arm, galloped away without a moment’s intermission, 
balancing ancv stamping with his heels to mark the 
time, and looking up at her from to time, with an air 
of profound admiration, while she, with her hooked 
nose, twirled about like a weathercock. 

Schoultz, his back rounded in a semicircle and his 
long legs bent, held his red-haired partner under the 
arms, and kept turning, turning, turning, without a 
moment’s cessation, and with the most wonderful reg- 
ularity, like a bobbin on its spindle, and keeping time 
so exactly that the spectators were fairly enchanted. 

But it was Fritz and the little Suzel that excited 
universal admiration, from the grace of their move- 
ments and the happiness which shone in their faces. 
They no longer belonged to this lower earth, they felt 
as if they were floating in a sort of celestial atmosphere. 
This music, singing in joyous strains the praises of 
happiness and love, seemed as if composed expressly 
for them. The eyes of the whole hall were riveted 
ujDon them, while they saw no one but each other. At 
times their youth and good looks so excited the enthu- 
siasm of the audience that it seemed as if they were 
about to burst into a thunder of applause, but their 
anxiety to hear the waltz kept them silent. It was 
only when Haan, almost beside himself with delight in 
the contemplation of the tall burgomaster’s daughter, 
raised himself on tiptoe, and whirling her round him 
twice, shouted in a stentorian voice — ‘‘ You ! you ! ” 
subsiding the next moment into the regular cadence of 
the dance, and when Schoultz at the same moment, 
raising his right leg, passed it, without missing a bai 


Friend Fritz. 


249 


of the tune, over the head of his plump little partner, 
3 nd in a hoarse voice, and whirling round like one pos- 
sessed, began to shout — “ You! you! you! you! 
you ! you ! ” that the admiration of the spectators 
found vent in clapping of hands and stamping of feet, 
and a storm of hurrahs, which shook the whole building. 

Never in their whole lives had they seen such dan- 
cing. The enthusiasm lasted for more than five min- 
utes, and when at last it died away, they heard with 
pleasure the waltz of the spirits of the air again resume 
the ascendant, as the song of the nightingale swells out 
in the night air after the summer storm has passed. 

At last Haan and Schoultz were fairly exhausted, 
the perspiration was pouring down their cheeks, and 
they were fain to promenade their partners through 
the hall, although it seemed as if Haan were being led 
about by his danseusey while Schoultz, on the other 
hand, looked as if he were carrying his fair one sus- 
pended from his elbow. 

Suzel and Fritz still kept whirling round. The 
shouts and stamping of feet of the spectators did not 
seem to reach their ears, and when Joseph, himsell 
exhausted, drew the last long-drawn sigh of love from 
his violin, they stopped exactly opposite Father Chris- 
tel and another old Anabaptist, who had just entered 
the hall, and were gazing at iFem with surprise and 
admiration. 

‘‘ Hallo ! So you are here too. Father Christel,” 
exclaimed Fritz, beaming with delight ; ‘‘ you see Su- 
zol and I have been dancing together.” 

“ It is a great honor for us, Mr. Kobus,” replied 
11 * 


250 


Friend Fritz, 


the farip(3r, smiling ; ‘‘ a great honor indeed. But 
does the little one understand it ? I fancied she had 
never danced a step in her life.” 

“ Why, Father Christel, Suzel is a butterfly, a per- 
fect little fairy ; I believe she has wings ! ” 

Suzel was leaning on his arm, her eyes cast down, 
and her cheeks covered with blushes, and Father 
Christel, looking at her with delight, asked — 

“ But, Suzel, who taught you to dance ? I was 
quite surprised to see you just now.” 

“ Mazel and I,” replied the little one, “ used to take 
a turn or two in the kitchen now and then to amuse 
ourselves.” 

Then the people around, who'had leaned forward to 
listen, could not help laughing, and the other Ana- 
baptist exclaimed — 

“ What are you thinking of, Christel ? Do you 
imagine that young girls require to be taught to 
waltz ? Don’t you know that it comes to them by 
nature ? Ha ! ha ! ha ! ” 

Fritz, learning by this that Suzel had never danced 
with any man but himself, felt fairly intoxicated with 
happiness. He would have liked to burst out singing, 
but restraining himself he said — 

“ Oh ! this is only the beginning of the fUe. You 
will see what fun we shall have. You will stay with 
us. Father Christel ; Haan ar.d Schoultz are here too ; 
we shall dance until evening, and sup together after- 
wards at the Golden Sheep.” 

“ That,” said Christel, saving your favor, Mf . 
Kobus, and notwithstanding all the pleasure I should 


Friend Fritz, 


261 


iia>ve in staying, I could not take on myself to agi*ee 
to. I must go LOW. I only came here to fetch 
Suzel.” 

“To fetch Suzel?” 

“Yes, Mr. Kobus.” 

“ And why so ? ” 

“ Because the work is pressing at home — we are now 
busy with the harvest, and the weather may change 
from this till to-morrow. It is more than I like to 
have lost two days already at this season ; but still I 
don’t say against it, for it is said, ‘ Honor thy father 
and mother.” And to come once or twice a year to 
see one’s mother is not too much. But I must go now. 
And then, last week, at Hunebourg, you entertained 
me so well that I didn’t get home till ten o’clock at 
night. And if I were to stay now my wife would 
think I was getting into bad ways, and would be quite 
uneasy.” 

Fritz was quite disconcerted. Not knowing what 
to reply, he took Christel by the arm, and with Suzel 
on the other, left the hall, the other Anabaptist 
following. 

“Father Christel,” said he, catching him by the 
butb')n of his overcoat, “ perhaps you are quite right 
as concerns yourself, but what is the ne(;essity of 
taking Suzel ? You might very well trust her with 
a e. Deuce take it ! one hasn’t so many opportunities 
of taking a little enjoyment.” 

“ Why, goodness knows, I would trust her with you 
with pleasure,” said the farmer, holding up his hands', 
“ I consider she would be as safe with you as with hei 


252 


Friend Fritz. 


own father, Mr. Kobiis, only look at the loss she would 
be to us. It doesn’t do to leave the laborers to them- 
selves altogether. My wife attends to the kitchen, I 
drive the waggons; if the weather should change, who 
knows when we would get the hay in ? And besides, 
w’-e have a family matter to settle — a weighty matter 
too.” 

Whilst saying this he looked at the other Ana- 
baptist, who nodded his head gravely. 

“ And so, Mr. Kobus, I beg you will not keep us — 
you would be quite wrong if you did — eh, Suzel ? ” 
Suzel did not answer ; she kept her eyes fixed on 
the ground, but it was plain she would have liked 
dearly to stay. 

Fritz saw that by persisting longer he might give 
rise to all sorts of surmises, so, yielding to circum- 
stances, he changed his tone, and said in as cheerful a 
voice as he could command — 

“ Well, then, since it is impossible, we shall say no 
more about it. But at least you will take a glass of 
wine with us at the Golden Sheep ? ” 

“ Oh, as for that, Mr. Kob\is, I wmn’t refuse you. 
I shall just go now with Suzel and say good-bye to 
grandmother, and in a quarter of an hour we will be 
with you at the auberge.” 

“ Very good — I shall be on the look-out for you.” 
Fritz pressed Suzel’s hand tenderly ; the poor little 
thing looked very sad as she turned away with her 
father. Fritz stood looking after them as they cross- 
ed the square, and then turned back into the Madame 
HUtte. 


Friend Fritz. 


253 


Haan and Schoultz, after conducting their partners 
to their seats, had returned to the orchestra gallery, 
and Fritz rejoined them there. 

“You must tell Andres to lead the orchestra for 
you,” said he to Joseph, “ and jom us over a glass or 
two of good wine at the hotel yonder.” 

The Bohemian asked for no better, and Andres 
having taken his place at the desk, the four left the 
hall arm-in-arm. 

At the auberge of the Golden Sheep Fritz ordered 
up a dessert into the now deserted salle dirmanger, and 
Father Loerich went down to the cellar for three 
bottles of champagne, which he put to cool in a bucket 
of water fresh from the spring. That done, the party 
took their seats at the window, and almost immediately 
afterwards the Anabaptist’s cJiar-d-hanc appeared at 
the end of the street. Christel was seated in front, 
and Suzel behind on a bundle of straw in the midst 
of a heap of kougelhof and tarts of all kinds which 
they were always in the habit of bringing home from 
the fair. 

Fritz, seeing Suzel coming, hastened to cut the wire 
of one of the bottles, and just at the moment when 
the waggon stopped he stood up in the window and 
let fly the cork like a rocket, exclaiming — 

“ To the prettiest dancer of the treieleins in Bis- 
chem I ” 

You may imagine whether the little Suzel was hap- 
py on hearing this ; it was exactly like a pistol-shot at 
a wedding. Chistel laughed heartily, and thouglit t<j 
himself — 


254 


Friend Fritz. 


“ This good-hearted Mr. Kobus is a little tipsy, bnt 
one can’t be surprised at that on 2 ^ fete day.” 

And entering the salle^ he raised his broad-brim- 
med hat, saying — 

“ That ought to be the champagne of which T have 
often heard — that wine of France vliich turns the 
heads of those lighting people, and leads them to make 
war on all the world ! Am I wrong ? ” 

‘‘No, Father Christel, no; take a seat,” replied 
Fritz. “ See, Suzel, here is your chair beside me. 
Take one of these glasses. To the health of my fair 
pai-tner ! ” 

All the party hammered on the table, crying — 

“ Deis soil gulden ! ” 

And then, raising their elbows, they tossed off the 
bumper with a clacking of tongues like the sound of 
a flock of thrushes at the myrtle harvest. 

Suzel only dipped her rosy lips in the foaming liquor, 
her large blue eyes raised towards Kobus, and said in 
scarcely audible voice — 

“ Oh, how good it is ! It is not wine, it is some- 
thing far better ! ” 

She was as red as a cherry ; and Fritz, who felt as 
happy as a king, drew himself up in his chair, mur- 
muring with a smile of satisfaction — 

“ Yes, yes, it isn’t bad.” 

He would have given all the wines of France and 
Germany to dance th3 treieleins once more with 
Suzel. 

How a man’s ideas can change in three months ! 

Christel, seated opposite the window, wi th his great 


Friend Fritz. 


255 


felt hat resting on the back of his neck, his face beam 
ing, bis elbows on the table, and his whip between 
his koees, gazed at the magnificent sunshine outside, 
and, thinking all the time of the harvest, kept say- 
ing— 

“ Yes, yes, it is a good wine ! ” 

He paid no attention to Kobus and Suzel, who 
smiled at each other like two children without saying 
a word, perfectly happy in being together. But 
Joseph observed them with a dreamy and thoughtful 
expression. 

Schoultz filled the glasses afresh, exclaiming — 

‘‘ You may say what you like, but Frenchmen have 
some good things in that country of theirs ! What 
a pity that their Champagne, their Burgundy, and 
their Bordeaux are not on the right side of the 
Rhine ! ” 

“ SchoultZy” said Haan gravely, “ you don’t know 
what you are wishing for. J ust refiect that if we had 
these provinces, they would come over and take them 
from us. It would be quite another sort of extermi- 
nation from that of their liberty and equality — it would 
be the end of the world ! — for wine is something real 
and tangible, and these Frenchmen, who are always 
talking of first principles, sublime ideas, and noble 
sentiments, hold fast to the real and substantial. 
Whilst the English are ever protecting the human 
race in general, and would have you believe they 
never cast a thought on such trifles as sugar, pepper, 
or cotton, the French on their side have always soma 
line or other to rectify. Sometimes it leans too much 


256 


Friend Fritz. 


to the right, sometimes too much to the left. Thej 
call that resuming their natural limits. 

“ As for the fat pasture-grounds, the vineyards, the 
meadows, the forests that happen to lie within these 
lines, that is a thing they never think about ; they 
hold merely to their ideas of justice and geometry. 
Heaven preserve us from having a slice of Champagne 
in Saxony or Mecklenburg ; their natural limits would 
soon be found to tend in that direction ! Far better 
to buy a few bottles of good wine from them when 
we want them, and preserve our equilibrium. Our 
old Germany loves peace and quietness, and she has 
therefore invented the equilibrium. In Heaven’s 
name, Schoultz, don’t let us cherish rash desires ! ” 

Haan spoke with considerable warmth, and Schoultz, 
emptying his glass, abruptly replied — 

“You speak like a pacific citizen, but I as a war- 
rior. Every one to his taste and profession.” 

So saying, he knit his brow, and proceeded to 
uncork another bottle. 

Christel, Joseph, Fritz, and Suzel paid no attention 
to this dialogue. 

“ What splendid weather ! ” exclaimed Christel, as 
if speaking to himself. “ Here is now nearly a month 
that we have had no rain, and every evening dew i» 
abundance. It is a real blessing from Heaven.” 

Joseph filled the glasses. 

“ Since the year ’22,” resumed the old farmer, “ I 
don’t remember to have seen such fine weather for 
getting in the hay harvest ; and that year the 
wine, too, was '^'ery good. It was mild, well-flavored 


Friend Fritz, 


257 


wriiie. Tliere was a good harvest and a good vin 
fcage.” 

“ Did you enjoy yourself, Suzel ? ” asked Fritz. 

“ Ah, yes, Mr. Kobus,” said the little one ; ‘‘ 1 
never enjoyed myself so much as to-day. I shall 
always remember it ! ” 

She looked at Fritz, whose eyes were suffused with 
agitation and happiness. ’ 

“ Come,” said he, ‘‘ another glass.” 

In pouring it out he happened to touch her hand, 
and a thrill ran through his whole frame. 

Do you like the treieleins^ Suzel ? ” 

“ Oh, it is the nicest dance, Mr. Kobus ! How 
could I help liking it ? And then with such music ! 
Oh, how good the music was ! ” 

‘‘ Do you hear, Joseph ! ” murmured Fritz. 

“ Yes, yes,” replied the Bohemian in a low voice. 
“ I hear it, Kobus ; that gives me pleasure — I am 
content.” 

He looked at Fritz as if he would read to the bot- 
tom of his heart, and Kobus felt in such a state of 
happiness that he could not utter a word. Meanwhile 
the three bottles had been emptied. Fritz, turning to 
the innkeeper, said — 

Father Loerich, two bottles more ! ” 

But at this, Christel, starting from his reverie, 
exclaimed — 

‘‘Mr. Kobus ! Mr. Kobus ! what are you thinking 
of ? I should be sure to overturn the wagon ! No, 
nc ; it’s now after five o’clock. It’s full time we were 
OB the road.” 


258 


Friemi Fritz. 


“Well, since you wish it, Father Ohristel, we mus 
put it off till some other time. So you don’t like this 
wine ? ” 

“ On the contrary, Mr. Kobus, I like it greatly , 
but although mild to the taste it’s terribly strong. 1 
might miss my way if I took any more — he ! he ! 
he ! Come, Suzel, we must go ! ” 

Suzel rose from her seat, quite agitated, and Fritz, 
holding her by the arm, stuffed the dessert into the 
pockets of her apron : macaroons, almonds — in short, 
everything. 

“ Oh, Mr. Kobus,” said she, in her little soft voice, 
“that’s enough.” 

“ Eat these to please me,” said he ; “ you have 
pretty little teeth, Suzel, j ust made for eating nice 
things ; and we must some day or other drink some 
more of this small white wine together, since you say 
you like it.” 

“ Oh ! good gracious, how should I drink such 
wine — it’s so dear ! ” said she. 

“ Never mind, never mind — I know what I am 
saying,” murmured he ; “ you shall see we will drink 
some more of it together.” 

And Father Christel, who was slightly elevated, 
looked at them, saying to himself — 

“ What a good-hearted man Mr. Kobus is ! Ah ! 
the Lord does well to shower down His blessings on 
such men — it’s like the dew of heaven, every one gets 
his share.” 

At last all the party rose to go. Fritz gave his arm 
to Suzel and led the way, saying — 


Friend Fr%t3. 


259 


“ ] must certainly see my partner off.” 

When they reached the waggon he caught Suzei 
under the arms, and crying, ‘‘ Jump, Suzei ! ” he lifted 
her like a feather and placed her on the straw, which 
he pulled up about her carefully. 

‘‘ Push your little feet well into it,” said he ; the 
evenings are getting cool now.” 

Then without waiting for any answer he went 
straight up to Father Christel, and shook him heartily 
by the hand. 

“ A pleasant journey to you. Father Christel,” said 
he, “ and safe home ! ” 

“ I wish you a very pleasant evening, gentlemen,” 
replied the old farmer, seating himself beside the shaft 
and taking the reins. 

Suzei had turned quite pale. Fritz took her hand, 
and raising his forefinger — 

“ Remember ! we are to drink some more of the 
little white wine together ! ” said he, which made her 
smile. 

Christel gave a smart cut of the whip to his horses, 
which set off at a gallop. Haan and Schoultz had re- 
turned into the auberge. Fritz and Joseph remained 
standing on the threshold, looking after the vehicle ; 
Fritz, especially, never took his eyes off it. It was 
just about to disappear round the corner when 
Suzei turned her head quickly. 

Then Kobus, throwing his two arms about Joseph, 
gave him a hearty hug, the tears standing in his 
eyes. 

' “ Yes, yes,” said the Bohemian in a deep soft voice, 


260 


Friend Fritz. 


‘ it is a good thing to embrace an old friend ! But 
her whom you love, and who loves you — ah, Fritz, 
that is another thing ! ” 

O 

Kobus saw that Joseph had guessed everything. 
He felt as if he could burst into tears ; but all at 
once, seizing the Bohemian by the hand, he began to 
jump about, exclaiming — 

“ Come along, old fellov'^, come along ; let’s have 
some fun and enjoy oursehes. Now for the Madame 
Hiitte. What a glorious evening ! What a lovely 


CHAPTER XTII. 


The following morning Fritz rose in a very happ^ 
frame of mind. He had dreamed all night of Suzel, 
and was planning to spend six weeks at the Meisen- 
thal, in order to see her at his leisure, 

“ Let Haan, Schoultz, and old David laugh as much 
as they like,” thought he, I shall go out all the 
same, without troubling my head about them. I must 
see the little one again, and if matters go further, well, 
in Heaven’s name let things be as they will ! ” 

During breakfast he pictured to himself beforehand 
the path through the Postthal, the rocks of the Turtle 
Doves, the furze-hill, the farm ; then the astonishment 
of Christel, and the joy of Suzel. All this pleased him 
mightily, and his heart was uplifted with joy. Break- 
fast over, he seized his hat and stick, full of ardor for 
the journey ; but just as he was going out to tell Kate! 
not to expect him home that evening or the following 
morning, who should he see but Mother Orchel at the 
foot of the staircase. She was mounting the steps 
slowly with stooped back, and carrying the skirts of 
her blue linen gown over her arm, for the morning 
was warm and she had walked quickly. 

I leave you to imagine Fritz’s surprise — he who 
was just setting out for the farm. 


262 


Friend Fritz. 


‘‘ Why, Mother Orchel, (,aii this be you ? ” exclaimed 
he. “ What brings you into town at this early hour 
of the morning ? ” 

Katel came forward at the same moment to the 
kitchen-door, and said — 

Good morning, Orchel. Good gracious, but you 
must have walked fast ! You are in a perfect lather 
with heat.” 

“ That’s true, Katel,” replied the good woman, 
drawing a long breath ; ‘‘I made as much haste as 1 
could.” And turning to Fritz — “ I have come about 
the business Christel was speaking to you of yesterday 
at the fair of Bischem, Mr. Kobus. I set out very 
early. It is a weighty matter, and Christel does not 
like to decide on it without you.” 

“ But,” said Fritz, “ I don’t know at all what it is 
about. Christel merely said that he had some family 
business which obliged him to return to Meisenthal, 
and naturally I did not ask any further questions.” 

“ That is why I have come, Mr. Kobus.” 

“ Well, come in and sit down. Mother Orchel,” said 
he, opening the door again. “ You will breakfast after- 
wards.” 

‘‘ Oh, I thank you, Mr. Kobus, but I breakfasted 
before I left home.” 

So saying, Orchel entered the dining-room, and took 
her seat at the corner of the table, putting on her large 
round cap which hung from her elbow, pushing back 
her hair carefully under it, and settling her skirts over 
her knees. Fritz looked at her with a puzzled air, and 
at last took a seat opposite her, saying — 


Friend Fritz. 


263 


“ Christel and Suzel got home quite safe yesterday 
evening, I hope ? ” 

“ Quite safe, Mr. Kobus — quite safe ; they got tc 
the farm at eight o’clock.” 

At last, having completed the arrangement of her 
dress, she began with clasped hands and head inclined 
to one side, in the attitude of a village gossip relating 
some interesting event to her neighbor — 

“You must know first and foremost, Mr. Kobus, 
that we have a cousin at Bischem, an Anabaptist like 
ourselves, that they call Hans Christian Pelsly ; 
he’s the grandson of Freutzel Deborah Bupert, own 
sister of Anna Christina Carolina Bupert, the grand- 
mother of Christel on the mother’s side, which makes 
us cousins.” 

“ Very good,” said Kobus, wondering what all this 
was leading to. 

“ Yes,” said she, “ Hans Christian is our cousin ; 
Christel was telling me you saw him yesterday at 
Bischem. He is a man well to do in the world ; 
he has a good bit of land out towards Bieverkirch, 
and a son called Jacob — a brave lad, Mr. Kobus — 
steady, careful, and now nigh hand his twenty-sixth 
year. No one has ever heard anything said against 
him.” 

Fritz had all at once become very grave. 

“ What the deuce is she coming to with this Jacob ?” 
thought he anxiously. 

“ Suzel,” resumed the farmer’s wife, “ is now nigh 
eighteen. It was in October, after the grape season, 
that she came ijato the ^prld ; that would make her 


264 


Friend Fritz. 


eighteen in five months from this. It is a good age 
fo marry.” 

Fritz’s cheeks quivered ; a creeping feeling passed 
through his hair, and an indefinable dread seemed to 
stifle the beating of his heart. 

But the stout farmer’s wife, calm and unimpres- 
sionable by nature, saw nothing, and continued tran- 
quilly — 

“ I was married myself at eighteen, Mr. Kobus, but 
that never hindered me to be always well and hearty, 
thank God ! Pelsly, knowing our means, had been 
thinking of Suzel for his boy ever since last St, Mi- 
chel. But before saying or doing anything in the 
matter he came to our house himself, as if to buy our 
little ox. He spent St. John’s Day with us. He 
looked well at Suzel ; he saw that she had no defects, 
that she wasn’t round-shouldered, or halt, or any way 
misshapen — that she was well acquainted with house- 
hold work, and was industrious in her turn. Then he 
said to Christel to come to the fair of Bischem, and 
Christel saw the boy yesterday. They call him Jacob ; 
he is tall and well-shaped, and a hard-working young 
man ; he is just the husband that we should like for 
Suzel, so Pelsly asked Suzel yesterday in marriage for 
his son.” 

For some minutes Fritz had ceased to hear a word 
that was said; his hopes, his joys, his dream of love 
had all vanished; his head swam round. He was 
like a summer dandelion that a sudden gust of wind 
tias stripped of its snowy down and left the stalk 
frjone, standing naked and desolate. 


Friend Fritz. 


265 


Mother Or die 1, tjuspectiug notliing, drew out tLo 
corner of her liindkerchief from her pocket, and 
stooping down blew her nose ; then she continued — 

“We have talked over the matter, Christel and me, 
the whole night. It is a good match for Suzel, and 
Christel said to me, ‘ I think well of it, but Mr. Ko- 
bus is such a good-hearted man, and likes us so well, 
and has been so kind to us, that we should be down- 
right ungrateful if we settled such a matter without 
consulting him. I can’t go myself to Hunebourg to- 
day, on account of having five loads of hay to bring 
in ; but you had better set off immediately after break- 
fast, and you can be back before eleven in time to pre- 
pare the men’s dinner.’ That is what Christel said. 
We both hope you will approve of it, especially when 
you have seen the boy. Christel wants him to come 
expressly that he may show him to you. Then, if you 
are pleased with him, we will settle on the marriage, 
and we hope you will come to the wedding. You can- 
not refuse us that honor.” 

These words, “ wedding,” “ marriage,” “ husband,” 
were buzzing in Fritz’s ears with a deafening and con- 
fusing sound. 

Orchel having finished her story, astonished at 
receiving nD reply, said — 

“ Wliat do you think of the matter, Mr. Kobus ? ” 

“ What matter ? ” said he. 

“ This marriage.” 

He passed his hand across his forehead, on which 
the drops of perspiration were standing. Mother 
Orchel, surprised at his paleness, said — 

12 


266 


Friend Fritz. 


“ Js there anything the matter with you, Mr. Ko 
bus ? ” 

“ No, it is nothing,” said he, rising. 

The idea of another’s marrying Suzel sent a sharp 
pang through his heart. He walked towards the 
table to get a glass of water ; but the shock had been 
too much for him, his knees trembled, and as he reach- 
ed out his hand to seize the carafe, he fell full length 
on the floor. 

Terrified almost out of her senses. Mother Orchel 
began to scream at the top of her voice — 

“ Katel ! Katel ! Your master is ill ! Lord have 
mercy upon us ! ” 

It was Katel’s turn, when she hurried in, in alarm, 
and saw poor Fritz lying there pale as a corpse, to 
wring her hands and exclaim — 

“ My God ! my poor master ! How did it happen, 
Orchel ? 1 never saw him in such a state before ! ” 

“ I don’t know at all, Mdlle. Katel ; we were talk- 
ing quietly about Suzel ; he rose to get a glass of water, 
and fell down as you see him.” 

“ Oh, my God ! I hope it is not a rush of blood to 
the head ! ” 

And the two poor women, screaming and gesticula- 
ting, and almost in a state of despair, raised him, one 
by his shoulders and the other by his feet, and laid 
him on his bed. 

See to what extremities the passion of love can bring 
its votaries ! Here was a man of mature reason, one 
who had laid his plans so carefully for spending the 
rest of his days in peace and tranquillity ; a man w’hc 


Friend Fritz. 


267 


looked so far before him, who had laid in such store of 
good wine, and saw in the distance the future stretch- 
ing out without a cloud ; just see to what a state a 
look from a simple maiden, a little country girl, with- 
out artifice or design, had reduced him ! Can any one 
maintain after that that love is the gentlest and most 
agreeable of the passions ? 

But one could go on for ever making judicious re- 
flections on this theme, and so instead of embarking 
on such an endless subject, we think it better to let 
each one draw those conclusions from the incident 
which seems to him most fitting. 

Orchel and Katel, then, were in despair, and did not 
know which way to turn ; but Katel in gi-eat emer- 
gencies showed what was in her. 

‘‘ Orchel,” said she, hastily loosening her master’s 
necktie, “ run down to the Square of the Acacias ; 
you will see, to the right of the church, a narrow lane, 
and on the left of the lane a row of green palings on 
the top of a low wall. It is there that Dr. Kipert 
lives ; he ought to be trimming his carnations and 
roses ; he generally does so every day about this hour. 
Tell him that Mr. Kobus is not well, and that he is 
wanted as soon as possible.” 

“ Yery good,” said the stout farmer’s wife, opening 
the door. She left the room, and Katel, after taking 
off Fritz’s shoes, ran into the kitchen to get some 
water heated, for in all cases of illness it is a good 
thing to have a supply of hot water. 

While she was busy with this task, and the firfl 
beginning to crackle on the hearth, Orchel returned. 


268 


Friend Fritz. 


Here he is, Mdlle. Katel ! ” said she, quite out 
of breath. And almost immediately the doctor, a lit- 
tle thin man in a knitted vest of green worsted, and 
his nankeen trousers drawn up by his suspenders 
almost to his shoulder-blades, and the five or six thin 
locks of his grey hair falling in wisps round his red 
forehead, appeared in the hall, and without saying a 
word made his way into the bedchamber. Orchel and 
Katel followed him. 

He looked at Fritz first, then he felt his pulse, his 
eyes fixed on the foot of the bed, like an old sporting 
dog setting a partridge, and at the end of about a 
minute he said — 

‘‘ It’s nothing ; the heart gallops, but the pulse is 
regular : there is no danger ; he requires a composing 
draught, that’s all.” 

Then for the first time the old servant hid her face 
in her apron and burst into tears. 

Kipert, turning round, asked — 

“ What happened to him, Mdlle. Katel ? ” 

“Nothing,” said the farmer’s wife; “we were talk- 
ing quietly when all at once he fell down.” 

The old physician, looking again at Fritz, said — 

“ There is nothing the matter — some slight emotion 
— an idea, perhaps ! He must be kept quiet ; don’t 
disturb or agitate him ; he will come round of him- 
self. I am going now tc prepare the draught myself 
at Harwich’s.” 

But just as he was about to leave the room, and 
turned round to take another look at the patient, 
Fritz opened his eyes. 


Friend Fritz. 


269 


“ It is I, Mr. Kobus,” said he, returning ; “ you 
have had a sligat attack — some annoyance or disap- 
pointment, was it not ? ” 

Fritz shut his eyes again, and Kipert saw two large 
tears forcing their way out at the corners. 

“ Your master has had some sorrow,” said he tc 
Katel in a low voice. 

At the same instant Kobus murmured — 

“ The rabbi, the old rabbi ! ” 

‘‘ You wish to see old David ? ” 

He bent his head. 

“ That’s well ; the danger is past,” said Kipert, smi- 
ling. “ What odd things do happen in this world ! ” 

And without waiting any longer he left the room. 

Katel was already at the window, calling “ Yeri ! 
Yeri!” 

And the little Yeri Kopfel, the weaver’s son, look- 
ed up from his play in the street, his face begrimed 
with dirt. 

“ Run to the old rabbi Sichel’s and tell him to come 
as fast as possible. Run quickly.” 

The little fellow was just starting off when he 
stopped, exclaiming — 

“ Here he is ! ” 

Katel, looking into the street, saw the old rabbi 
David, his hat hanging on the back of his head, his 
long cloak flapping about his heels, hurrying towards 
the house as fast as his old thin legs could carry him. 
His shirt was unbuttoned in front, showing his bare 
throat and chest, and he carried his necktie in hii 
hand. 


270 


Friend Fritz. 


Already every one in the town knew that Mr. 
Kobus had had an attack. You can imagine David’i 
emotion on hearing this news ; he had not taken time 
to button his clothes, and was hurrying to the house 
in inexpressible agitation. 

Since it does not signify,” said Mother Orchel, 
“I may go, I suppose. I will be back to-morrow or 
next day to know Mr. Kobus’s answer.” 

“ Yes, you had better go,” replied Katel, accom- 
panying her to the door. 

As the farmer’s wife was going downstairs she met 
the old rabbi on his way up. David seeing Katel in 
the shadow of the lobby, began to stammer in a low 
voice, “ What is the matter with him ? What is the 
matter with him ? He has been ill ? He fell down, 
didn’t he ? You could hear the beating of his heart ? ” 

“Yes, come in,” said the old servant; “he has 
been asking for you.” 

He entered the bedroom, as pale as death, on the 
points of his great coarse shoes, stretching out his 
neck and gazing before him with such a terrified air 
that it was painful to see him. 

“ Kobus ! Kobus ! ” said he quite low, and soften- 
iug his voice as much as possible, as one does ia 
speaking to an infant. 

Fritz opened his eyes. 

“ You are ill, Kobus ? ” resumed the old rabbi, still 
in the same tremulous voice ; “ did anything happen 
to you?” 

Fritz, his eyes swimming in tears, looked at Katelj 
and David at once understood -what he meant. 


Friend Fritz. 


271 


“ You wish to speak to me alone ? ” said he. 

“ Yes,” murmured Kolus. 

Katel left the room with her apron to her eyes, and 
David, leaning over him asked — 

“ There is something the matter with you — ^you are 
ill ? ” 

Fritz, without replying, put both his arms about 
the old man’s neck, and the two embraced each other. 

“ I am very unhappy ! ” said he. 

“ You unhappy ? ” 

“ Yes, the most miserable of men.” 

“ Don’t say that,” said old David, “ don^t say 
that ; you cut me to the heart ! What has hap- 
pened ? ” 

“ You won’t laugh at me, David ? I know I have 
behaved very badly to you ; I have often laughed at 
you ; I haven’t treated you with the respect which 
was due to my father’s oldest friend ; but you will not 
laugh at me now, will you ? ” 

“ Why, Kobus I In Heaven’s name do not speak 
of such a thing,” cried the old rabbi, ready to burst 
into tears ; “ you have never caused me anything but 
pleasure ; you have never annoyed me — quite the 
contrary — quite the contrary. I was rejoiced to see 
you laughing — only tell me what is the matter.” 

Then you promise not to make fun of me? ” 

“ Make fun of you ! Do you think I have such a 
l)ad heart as to make fun of the sorrows of my best 
friend ! Ah, Kobus ! ” 

Then Fritz burst forth— 

“ It was my only delight, David ; I thought of noth 


272 Fviznd Fritz, 

ing latterly but her ; and now they are going to give 
her to another.” 

“ Who— who ? ” 

Suzel,” said he, sobbing. 

“ little Suzel — the daughter of your farm-manager ? 
You love her ? ” 

» Yes.” 

“ Ah ! ” said the old rabbi, raising himself up, his 
eyes wide open with surprise and pleasure ; “ it’s little 
Suzel — he loves little Suzel! Well, well, well — I 
ought to have suspected it. But I see no harm in that, 
Kobus ; she’s a sweet pretty little thing — she will just 
suit you ; you will be very happy with her.” 

“ They want to marry her to some one else,” inter- 
rupted Fritz in a despairing voice. 

“ To whom ? ” 

‘‘ To an Anabaptist.” 

“ But who told you that ? ” 

‘‘ Mother Orchel — just now ; she came for the pur- 
pose.” 

“ Oh, ho 1 I see ; now I understand. She came to ’ 
tell it to him in her simplicity, not suspecting anything, 
and he fell ill. Yes, yes, it’s quite clear — it’s very 
natural.” 

While thus solilo ^uising, David took two or three 
turns up and down the room, with his hands behind 
his back. Then stopping at the foot of the bed — 

“ But if you love her,” exclaimed he, “ Suzel must 
know it. Of course you have told her ? ” 

“I had not the courage.” 

“ You had not the courage ! No matter, she knowa 


Friend Fritz, 


273 


it. That little thing is full of intelligence— -she saw 
it from the first. She ought to be pleased that you 
prefer her, for you are rather better than the common 
run of Anabaptists, I flatter myself. You are a genrle 
man in appearance and manners, and I tell you thia 
little thing must be flattered ; she must think herself 
fortunate to have a fine town gentleman taken with 
her — a handsome man, fresh, fair, good humored, and 
even distinguished-looking when he is dressed in his 
black frock, with a gold chain across his breast. 1 
maintain that she ought to love you better than all the 
Anabaptists in the universe. Does the old rabbi Sichel 
not know something of women ? What I say is com- 
mon sense. But, tell me, did you ever ask if she had 
consented to take the other man ? ” 

‘‘ I never thought of it. I felt as if there was a 
mill-wheel turning round inside my head.” 

“Eh?” cried David, shrugging his shoulders with 
a most comical expression, his head leaned to one side, 
and his hands clasped in profound pity. “ What ! 
you never thought of it ! And there you are giving 
yourself up to despair, falling flat on your face, and 
crying and moaning. Lovers are the same all the 
world over. Just wai; a moment; if Mother Orchel 
is still there you shall see.” 

He opened the door, and called in the lobby — 
Katel ! is Mother Orchel still there ? ” 

“No, Mr. David.” 

He shut the door again. 

Fritz seemed to have recovered a little from his 
depression. 

12 * 


274 


Friend Fr%tz. 


David,” said he, “ you give me new life.” 

Come, come, schaude^'* said the old rabbi, “ ge« 
up, put on your shoes, and leave the matter to me 
We will go out yonder together and ask Suzel in 
marriage. But can you support yourself on your 
legs?” 

‘‘ Oh ! ” exclaimed Fritz, “ to ask Suzel in marriagr 
I could walk to the end of the world ! ” 

He he ! he ! ” said old Sichel, puckering up his 
face and half shutting his little eyes — ‘‘ he ! he ! he ! 
What a fright you gave me ! T came through the 
streets just as you see me'; it’s a mercy I didn’t forget 
to put on my breeches.” 

And he laughed as he buttoned his brocaded waist- 
coat and his great green cajie. But Fritz was not yet 
in good enough spirits to be able to laugh ; he put on 
his shoes again, quite pale with anxiety ; then taking 
his hat and stick, he said in an agitated voice — 

“ Now, David, I am ready; may God assist us ! ” 

‘‘ Amen,” responded the old rabbi, and they left the 
house together. 

Katel, from the kitchen, had heard something of 
what passed, and, seeing the two go out, she said no- 
thing, but was full of astonishment and rejoicing at 
these strange events. They crossed the town, both 
absorbed in their reflections, without perceiving that 
the people were looking at them with surprise. Once 
outside the walls the fresh air revived Fritz greatly, 
and whilst descending the path into the Postthal, he 
gave David a full account of the events of the previous 
three months — the way in which he had become aware 


Friend Fritz. 


2'^5 

of Ms lo^e for Suzel, how he had endeavored to drive 
her from his thoughts, and for this purpose had taken 
a trip into the country with Haan, but that the idea 
of Suzel had followed him everywhere, that he couldn’t 
take a glass of wine without beginning forthwith to 
rave about her, and that at last he had determined to 
follow what seemed the design of Providence. 

David, his head bent to one side, trotted on beside 
him, laughing in his grey beard, and from time to tim<» 
puckering up his little eyes. 

“ He! he ! he ! ” said he, “I told you so, Kobus, 
I told you so ; you couldn’t help yourself ! And so 
you played the spinet for her, and sang ‘ Chloe, lovely 
maid.’ Well, and what next ? ” 

Fritz continued his narrative. 

“ Just so, just so,” resumed old David, ‘‘he ! he ! 
he ! It persecuted you — it was too strong for you. 
Yes, yes, I can see it all quite plainly. So it was on 
that account that you defied every one that night at 
the Stag, and sang the praises of love ? Go on, go 
on — I love to hear you talk of that.” 

And Fritz, happy to be able to unburthen his heart, 
continued his story, only interrupting himself from 
time to exclaim — 

“ Do you really believe she loves me, David ? ” 

“ Yes, yes, she loves you,” replied the old rabbi, his 
little eyes twinkling with pleasure. 

“ Are you quite sure ? ” 

“ He ! he ! he ! Of course I am. So at B?schem, you 
say, you had the happiness of dancing the treieleins to- 
gether ? You must have been very happy, Kobus ? ” 


276 


Friend Fritz. 


‘‘ Ah ! ” exclaimed Kobiis. 

And all the rapture of the treieteins flashed back in 
his memory. Never had old Sichel felt happier ; he 
could have listened to Kobus repeating the same thing 
for a century without being tired, and at times he 
filled up the pauses in the narrative by quotations 
from Scripture appropriate to the subject. 

Fritz thought these reflections beautiful. ,He was 
just beginning to go over the story again for the third 
time with fresh details, when the old rabbi, stopping 
at the corner of the wood, near the rock of the Turtle 
Doves, about ten minutes’ walk from the farm, said to 
him — 

“ Here is the Meisenthal. You will tell me the rest 
another time. I will go down now to the farm, and 
you can wait here till I return.” 

“ How ? Must I wait here ? ” asked Kobus. 

“Yes, it is a delicate aflfair. I shall probably have 
to bring these people round. Who knows but they 
may, have given their promise to the Anabaptist ? It 
is better you should not be there. Kemain here, and 
I will go down alone; if things turn out favorably 
you will see me come out at the corner of the cart- 
shed ; I will wave my pocket-handkerchief, and then 
you will know that all is right.” 

Fritz, notwithstanding his extreme impatience, was 
forced to admit that this reasoning was good. He 
halted, therefore, on the outskirts of the wood, 
David descended alone, trotting like an old hare 
through the heather, his head bent forwards, and hold 
mg Kobufi’s stick, which he had taken, before him. 


Friend Fritz, 


277 


It might then be about one o’clock. The sun blazed 
down on the Meisenthal in its full force, and sparkled 
on the surface of the river as it wound through the 
valley. Not a breath of air was stirring, not the chirp 
of a grasshopper was to be heard ; the birds were 
sleeping with their heads under their wings, and the 
only sound which broke the silence was when from 
time to time a deep low from one of Christel’s oxen, 
reposing in the shade of the tall gable with their legs 
folded under them, echoed through the valley. 

You can imagine Fritz’s reflections after the old 
rabbi’s departure. He followed him with his eyes 
until he was close to the farm. Once beyond the 
heather, David took the sandy path which wound 
along under the shade of the apple-trees at the foot of 
the hill. Kobus could only perceive his hat moving 
along behind the hedge, then he saw him passing the 
stables, and at the same instant the barking of Mop- 
sel was heard in the distance like the squeaking of a 
Nuremberg toy. David stooped down holding the 
stick before him, and Mopsel, his hair bristling with 
anger, redoubled his cries. At last the old rabbi dis- 
appeared round the corner of the farmhouse. 

The time now began to appear frightfully long to 
Fritz amidst this profound silence. It seemed to him 
ns if it would never be over. Minute after minute 
srept on until a quarter of an hour had passed, when 
a flash was visible in the farmyard. He thought it 
was David’s handkerchief, and started, but it waa 
only the little window of the kitchen turning on its 
hinge in the sunlight as the mai4-servaTit Mayel emp- 


278 


Friend Fritz. 


tied her bucket of potato-peelings outside. The cack 
ling of hens and ducks was heard for a time, and ag.ai n 
the moments seemed to drag on interminably. 

Kolms conjured up a thousand different ideas ; he 
pictured to himself Cbristel and Orchel refusing, the 
old rabbi entreating, until at last the throng of images 
become so bewildering that his head swam round. 

At last David appeared again at the corner of the 
stable ; he was waving nothing, and Fritz, gazing at 
him, felt his knees tremble. After a moment the old 
rabbi thrust his hand into the pocket of his long cape 
up to the elbows, drew out his pocket-handkerchief, 
blew his nose as if nothing particular was the matter, 
and at last raising the handkerchief, waved it to and 
fro. Instantly Kobus was on his feet, and bounding 
down the hill like a deer, in five minutes was close to 
the farm. David, his face all puckered up with 
smiles and his eyes twinkling, came forward to meet 
him. 

“ He ! he ! he ! ” said he in a low voice, all is 
going on well, all is going on well. You are accepted ; 
but wait — listen ! ” 

Fritz heard no more ; he ran towards the door, and 
the rabbi followed, quite enchanted with his ardor. 
Five or six day-laborers, in their blouses and straw 
hats, were preparing to set off again to their work : 
some were putting the oxen into the yoke garnished 
with green boughs ; others with forks and rakes on 
their shoulders were standing looking on. These 
men turned their heads as he appeared, and said — 

“ Good day, Mr. Kobus ! ” 


Friend Fritz. 


279 


Blit he passed without hearing them, and entered 
the passage as if frightened, then into the large sit- 
ting-room, followed by D ivid, lubbing his hands ana 
smiling in his grey beard. 

They had just finished dinner. The large mugs of 
reddish-colored crockery, the pewter forks, and the 
grey earthenware jugs were still on the table. Chris - 
tel, who was seated at the upper end, his hat on the 
back of his neck, stared before him in a stupefied way ; 
Mother Orchel, with her great red face, was standing 
in the doorway of the kitchen, her mouth wide open ; 
and little Suzel sitting in the old leathern arm- 
chair between the great metal stove and the old 
clock, which was ticking away with its monotonous 
beat. Suzel, in her white short sleeves and little 
bodice of blue linen, was there, her sweet face buried 
in her apron. Nothing could be seen but her round 
soft neck, embrowned by the sun, and her plump 
arms. Fritz at this sight tried to speak, but he could 
not utter a word, and it was Father Christel who 
began. 

“ Mr. Kobus ! ” exclaimed he, in a tone of profound 
stupefaction, ‘‘is it possible that what the rabbi 
David tells us is true, that you love Suzel, and ask us 
for her in marriage ? You must tell it to us yourself, 
otherwise we could never believe it.” 

“ Father Christel,” replied Fritz, almost eloquent 
in his earnestness, “ if you do not grant me Suzel’s 
hand, or if Suzel does not love me, T cannot live. I 
have never loved any one but Suzel, and I never wish to 
to love any one but her. If Suzel loves me, and if 


280 


Friend Fritz. 


you give her to me, I shall be the happiest of men, 
and I will do everything in my power to make her 
happy.” 

Christel and Orchel looked at each other as if ccn* 
founded, and Suzel began to sob, whether from happi- 
ness or not one could not tell, but she wept like a 
Niobe. 

‘‘Father Christel,” resumed Fritz, “you hold my 
life in your hands.” 

“ Why, Mr. Kobus,” exclaimed the old farmer in a 
loud voice and with outstretched arms, “ it is with 
the greatest happiness that we give you our daughter 
in marriage. What greater honor could happen to us 
in this world than to have a man like you for our 
son-in-law ? Only, I beg of you, Mr. Kobus, reflect — 
reflect well what w’e are and what you are. Reflect 
that you are in a difierent rank of life from us, that 
we are common working people, and that you are of 
a family distinguished not only by their fortune, but 
also by the esteem which your ancestors and yourself 
have deserved. Reflect on all this, that you may not 
have to repent afterwards, and that we may not have 
the grief of thinking that you have been made un- 
happy through our fault. You know far more than 
we do, Mr. Kobus; we are poor people without 
instruction ; reflect, then, for both of us ! ” 

“ There spoke an honest man,” thought the old rab- 
bi. And Fritz, deeply moved, said — 

“ If Suzel loves me all will be well. If, unfortu- 
nately, she does not love me, neither fortune, ror 
r»nk, nor the consideration of the world matters in 


Friend Fritz. 


281 


the least to me ! I have reflected, and I ask foi 
nothing but Suzel’s love.” 

“ Well, then, the Lord’s will be done,” exclaimed 
Christel. ‘‘ Suzel, you have heard what has been 
said ; answer for yourself. As regards us, what could 
we desire more for your happiness? Suzel, do you 
love Mr. Kobus ? ” 

But Suzel did not answer, and only sobbed more 
violently. 

However, at last, when Fritz, unable to bear the 
suspense, exclaimed in a trembling voice — 

“ You don’t love me, then, Suzel, since you won’t 
answer ? ” 

Starting up all at once like one beside herself, she 
rushed forward and threw herself into his arms, 
exclaiming — 

“ Oh, yes, I do love you ! ” 

Overcome with emotion, she sobbed convulsively, 
while Fritz pressed her to his heart, and the great 
tears coursed each other down his cheeks. 

All the spectators cried from sympathy. Mayel, 
her sweeping-brush in her hand, stood gazing at the 
scene with outstretched neck from a corner of the 
kitchen, and at all the windows around you could 
see curious faces, about five or six yards oflT, peer- 
ing eagerly forward to see and hear what was going 
on. 

At last the old rabbi blew his nose, and said — 

“ That’s right ! that’s right ! Love each other ! 
Love each other ! ” 

And no doubt he was about to add some moral 



282 


Friend Fritz, 


reflections, when all at once Fritz, giving a shout ol 
triumph, passed his arm round Su^el’s waist, and 
whirled her off in a waltz, crying — 

“ You ! houpsa Suzel ! You / You / You i 
You! You!^^ 

Then all those who had been crying began to laugh, 
and the little Suzel, smiling through her tears, hid 
her sweet face on Kobus’s breast. 

Joy was pictured on every face ; it was like a mag 
nificent burst of sunshine following a summer thunder 
shower. Two stout farm- wenches, with immense 
straw hats like parasols, broad sunburned faces, and 
eyes almost starting out of their heads, had plucked 
up courage enough to come up close to one of the 
windows, and leaning their elbows on the sill, looked 
on and laughed with all their hearts. Behind them 
.itood others, equally interested, and leaning forward 
to take part in the fun. 

Orchel, who had left the room wiping her eyes with 
her apron, now came back, carrying a bottle and some 
glasses. 

‘‘ Here is the bottle of wine you sent us three 
months ago with Suzel,” said she to Fritz ; I was 
keeping it for Christel’s birthday, but we could not 
drink it on a better day than this.” 

At the same moment the loud cracking of a whip 
was heard outside, and Zapheri, the overseer, calling — 

“ To work ! to work ! ” 

The windows were emptied of the gazers, and Jis the 
Anabaptist filled the glasses, the old rabbi, in high 
spirits, said to him — 


Friend Fritz. 283 

“ Well ! Christel, and when are we to ha^ o l^he 
wedding ! ” 

At this question Fritz and Suzel were all attention. 

“ Hey ! Orchel, what think you ? ” said the farmer 
to his wife. 

“ Whene\rer Mr. Kobus wishes,” replied the good 
woman, taking a seat. 

“ To your healths, my children ! ” said Christel. 
“ For my part, I think when we have got the hay 
harvest over.” 

Fritz looked at the old rabbi, who said — 

‘‘ Listen, Christel. The hay crop is a good thing, 
but the young people’s happiness is worth more still. 
I stand here in place of Kobus’s father, whose oldest 
friend I was. Well, I say that we ought to fix it for 
this day eight days, just the time necessary for the 
notices. Why keep these dear children pining for each 
other ? Why wait longer ? Isn’t that your opinion, 
Kobus?” 

‘‘Whatever Suzel wishes is my wish,” said he, 
looking at her. 

With downcast eyes she hid her face on Fritz’s 
shoulder but did not speak. 

“ Well, let it be so,” said Christel. 

“ Yes,” resumed David, “ that’s the best arrange- 
ment, and you had better come into Hunebourg to- 
morrow and have the contract drawn up.” 

Then all drank, and the old rabbi, smiling, added — 

“ I liave made many a marriage in my life, but this 
one has gi'ven me more pleasure than all the others 
put together, and I am right proud of it. I came to 


284 


Friend Fritz. 


you to-day, Christel, like Abraham’s servant Eleazer 
to Laban. This afiair is the work of the Almighty.’' 

‘‘ Let us bless and praise His holy name,” replied 
Christel and Orchel together. 

And it was thereupon agreed that the contract 
should be signed the following day at Hunebourg, and 
that the marriage should take place that day week. 


CHAPTER XVHL 


Now the news of these events spread the same evening 
through Hunebourg, and all the town was in amaze- 
ment, every one saying to himself, “How comes it 
that Mr. Kobus, that rich man, that man of position, 
is going to marry a simple country girl, the daughter 
of his own farm-manager, he who for the last fifteen 
years has refused so many fine matches ? ” 

People stopped each other in the middle of the street 
to tell this strange news; it was the sole subject of 
conversation on the doorsteps, in the houses, and even 
in most remote lanes and courts of the town ; there 
was no end to the general astonishment. 

It was in this way that Schoultz, Haan, Speck, and 
the other friends of Kobus learned of these marvel- 
lous events, and the following day, when met together 
at the brewery of the Great Stag, they talked of it 
amongst themselves, saying, “ That it was a stupen- 
dous piece of folly to marry a woman in an inferior 
position to one’s own, and that annoyances and jeal- 
ousies of all sorts were sure to follow from such a 
step — in fact, that it would be better not to marry at 
all. That there was not a husband on earth as healthy, 
contented, or jolly as an old bachelor.” 

“ Yes,” cried Schoultz, indignant at not having been 
informed beforehand by Kobus, “ we shall see nothing 


286 


Friend Fritz. 


more of stout old Fritz ; from this time forth he wiL 
live like a snail in its shell, with its hoi ns drawn in- 
side. See what age does in subduing men; when 
they grow old and feeble, a simple country girl can 
subdue them and lead them about with a rose -colored 
favor. There are none but your old soldiers who re- 
main stanch. Yes, this will be the way with our 
good friend Kobus, and we may say of him as of the 
prize ox killed on Mardi Gras, ‘ Adieu, adieu ! rest 
in peace ! ” 

Haan stared underneath the table in a meditative 
mood, and knocked out the ashes of his great pipe 
between his knees ; but as the other speakers had at 
last to pause to recover breath, he said in his turn — 

“ Marriage is the grave of joy, and for my part I 
would rather stick my head into a faggot of thorns than 
put such a halter about my neck. Nevertheless, since 
our friend Kobus has been converted, every one must 
admit that his little Suzel was well worthy of accom- 
plishing such a miracle. For beauty, cleverness, and 
good sense I know of one person alone who can be 
compared to her, and is even superior to her, as she 
has a more dignified carriage, and that is the daughter 
of the burgomaster of Bischem, a superb woman, with 
whom I danced the treideins^'* 

Then Schoultz exclaimed ‘‘ That neither Suzel nor 
the burgomaster’s daughter was worthy to loose the 
shoe-tie of the little red-haired woman whom, he had 
chosen ! ” 

And the discussion, giowing more and more ani- 
mated, was continued in this way till midnight, when 


Friend Fritz, 287 

the ■watchman came to inform these gentlemen that 
tl e conference must be temporarily suspended. 

The same day the marriage contract was drawn up 
at Fritz’s house. 

As Muntz, the notary, was inserting a statement of 
Kobus’s different properties, and as Suzel, on her side, 
had nothing to contribute to the household goods but 
the charms of youth and love, old David, leaning over 
the notary’s shoulder, said to him — 

“ Write that the rabbi David Sichel gives to 
Suzel, as her dowry, the three acres of vineyard at 
Sonneberg, which produces the best wdne in that dis- 
trict. Write that, Muntz.” 

And as Fritz looked up in great surprise, for these 
three acres belonged to himself, the old rabbi, hold- 
ing up his finger, said to him, smiling — 

“ Recollect, Kobus — recollect our discussion on mar- 
riage after dinner in this room three months ago.” 

Then Fritz recollected their wager. 

“ It is true,” said he, blushing; “these three acres 
of vineyard belong to David ; he has won them from 
me fairly; but since he has given them to Suzel, I 
accept them for her. Only add that he reserves to 
himself the use of them during his life. I should wish 
him to be able to drink the juice of the grape until he 
is as old as his ancestor Methusalem. I could not be 
happy otherwise. And write also, Muntz, that Suzel 
brings with her as dowry the farm of Meisenthal, 
which I give her as a token of my love. Ohristel and 
Orchel will cultivate it for their children; that will 
give them all the more plfiasure.” 


288 


Friend Fritz. 


It was tnus that the marriage contract was drawn 
up. And as for the rest, as for the arrival of Joseph 
Almdni, Bockel, and Andres, hurrying from fortj 
miles off to perform the music at the wedding of their 
friend Kobus; as for the feast ordered by old Katel, 
according to the highest rules of her art, with the 
assistance of the cook at the Red Ox ; as for the art- 
less grace of Suzel, the joy of Fritz, the dignified bear- 
ing of Haan and Schoultz, his best men on the occa- 
sion, the eloquent discourse of the Rev. Pastor Diemer, 
the grand ball, which the old rabbi David opened 
himself with Suzel in the midst of universal applause ; 
as for the enthusiasm of Joseph, who played the vio- 
lin in such an extraordinary manner that the half of 
Hunebourg were collected in the Square of the Aca- 
cias to listen to him till two o’clock in the morning — 
as for all that, it would make a second story quite as 
long as the first. 

Let it suffice you, then, to know that about a fort- 
night after his marriage. Fritz collected all his friends 
to dinner in the same apartment in which Suzel had 
made her appearance amongst them three months 
before, and then and there declared to them openly 
that the old rabbi was in the right when he said ‘‘ that 
outside the domain of love all is vanity, that there is 
nothing which ran be compared to it, and that a union 
with the woman one loves is paradise on earth ! ” 

And then David Sichel, deeply moved, pronounced 
the following noble sentence, which be had read in a 
Hebrew book, and which he felt was sublime, although 
it was not in the Old Testament . 


Friend Fritz. 


289 


“Belo\e(l, let us love one another, for love is of 
God, and every one that loveth is bom of God and 
knoweth God. He that loveth not knoweth not God, 
for God is love.” 



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touches. Robert Herrick shows himself to be a past master in subtleties of 
diction of the heart, and of a vivid and brilliant imaginative turn.”— Chicago 
T imes-Herald. 

A Romance in Transit. By Francis Lynde. 

“One of the most readable stories we have seen for a long time. A 
comedy romance of the happiest kind.” — Boston Times. 

The Old Gentleman of the Black Stock. By Thomas Nelson 
Page. 

“ The story has the delicacy, tenderness and sweetness which invariably 
characterize Mr. Page’s short stories ; and the flavor of the South and olden 
days is like the scent of rose leaves from a jar.” — Boston Times. 

The Man Who Wins. By Robert Herrick. 

“It is written with admirable restraint, and without affectations of 
style, in the clearest English. It is a pleasure to welcome Mr. Herrick into 
the small company of serious literary workers.”- Book. 

Amos Judd. By. J. A. Mitchell, Editor of Life, ^th Edition. 

“It is just the book to take home to read before the Are — a book that 
fulfllls the simplest yet often the best function of light literature, that of 
amusing. ” — The Critic. 

A Bride from the Bush. By E. W. Hornung. 

“ These pages glow with a lively humor, a playful fancy in which there 
is no hint of an undesirable ending.” — Rochester Post Express. 

Irralie’s Bushranger. A Story of Australian Adventure. By 
E. W. Hornung. 

“It is a delightfully tormenting tale, compacted of all the good qualities 
of romantic adventurous fiction.” — N. Y. Tribune. 

I A. A Love Story. By “ Q” (A. T. Quiller-Couch). 

“No one else writes of Cornwall and its people with the knowledge and 
skill of Mr. Quiller-Couch.” — Phila. Times. 

One of the Visconti. By Eva Wilder Brodhead. 

“ Pathos, dramatic movement, lightness and fine touches of character are 
deftly blended.” 


SCRIBNER'S RECENT FICTION, 


5 


The Ivory Series— Continued. 

Madame Delphine. By George W. Cable. 

“There are few living American writers who can reproduce for us more 
perfectly than Mr. Cable does, the speech, the manners, the whole social 
atmosphere of a remote time and a peculiar people.” — New York Tribune. 

The Suicide Club. By Robert Louis Stevenson, 

“Readers of the ‘New Arabian Nights’ will remember ‘The Suicide 
Club ’ as one of the most thoroughly fascinating of the stories in that volume. 
It is now published for the first time in America in a separate volume and is 
certain to be one of the most popular in the dainty Ivory Series.” — Boston 
Advertiser. 

An Inheritance. By Harriett Prescott Spofford. 

“A splendid example of the genuine worth that can be crowded into a 
few pages.” — Boston Herald. 

A Master Spirit. By Harriet Prescott Spofford. 

“ Quite in Mrs. Spofford’s old vein — the vein in which she made herself 
beloved thirty years ago in the pages of the Atlantic Monthly. It is full 
of music, color, young life and passion.” — St. Paul Pioneer Press. 

A Book of Martyrs. By Cornelia Atwood Pratt. 

“ One of the best collections of bright, short stories given to the world of 
fiction this year .” — Union and Advertiser. 


Elizabeth G. Jordan. 

Tales of the City Room. i2ino, $i.oo. 

“Reveals the work of one able to call up the ‘light behind the eyes’ 
and let it play upon and truly interpret the daily panorama which passes 
before the outer vision.”— Boston Transcript. 


Walter Cranston Lamed. 

Arnaud’s Masterpiece. A Romance of the Pyrenees. $1.25. 
“ No more beautiful or more symbolic story of the highest conception of 
Art could be written.”— Boston Herald. 


J. A. Mitchell, Editor of Life. 

Gloria Victis. i2mo, $1.25. 

“ In many respects this story is as beajutiful as it is powerful and un- 
hackneyed. The characters are drawn with exceptional clearness, and the 
development of the plot also is masterly.”— 7%^ Congregationalist. 

That First Affair, and Other Sketches. Illustrated by Gib- 
son, Frost, Richards, and the Author. i2mo, $1.25. 

“Delightful examples of how short stories should be written. . . , 
The volume is readable from cover to cover.”— New York Tribune. 

Amos Judd. Seventh Edition. {Ivory Series.) i6mo, 75 cents. 


6 SCRIBNER'S RECENT FICTION. 


Thomas Nelson Page. 

Pastime Stories. With 22 illustrations by A. B. Frost. i2mo, 
$1.25. 

This volume contains more than a score of Mr. Page’s fascinating Vir- 
ginia tales, among them such gemsSas “How Jinny Eased her Mind,” “Bil- 
lingfton’s Valentine,” “The True Story of the Surrender of the Marquis 
Cornwallis,” and “Rachel’s Lovers.” The peculiar charm of the author’s 
Southern stories is one of the best known developments in our later 
literature. 


“ Q ** (Arthur T. Quiller-Couch) 
The first uniform edition of 1 
comprising nine volumes. 
The Splendid Spur, 

The Delectable Duchy, 
Wandering Heath, 

I Saw Three Ships, 

Adventures 


le writings of Mr. Quiller-Couch, 
Each, i2mo, $1.25. 

The Blue Pavilions, 

Troy Town, 

Dead Man’s Rock, 

Noughts and Crosses, 

IN Criticism. 


“ He is highly esteemed as among the most imaginative and poetic of 
the late English novelists.”— Philadelphia Public Ledger. 


James Gardner Sanderson. 

Cornell Stories. i2mo, $1.00. 

A very entertaining volume of stories dealing with college life. Mr. 
Sanderson handles his material interestingly and succeeds in fixing for the 
reader much of the peculiar “color” which appertains to each great educa- 
tional centre, and in which Cornell is particularly rich. 


Molly Elliot Seawell. 

History of the Lady Betty Stair. Illustrated. $1.25. 

“ One of the most charming little stories we have seen for many a day.” 
—Christian Advocate. 

The Sprightly Romance of Marsac. Illustrated. i2mo, $1.25. 


Anne Douglas Sedgwick. 

The Dull Miss Archinard. i2mo, $1.25. 

“ It would not be unjust to rank “ The Dull Miss Archinard ” as the most 
readable novel, pure and simple, of the year.”— Boston Transcript. 


Robert Louis Stevenson. 

St. Ives. Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in 
England. i2mo, $1.50. 

“ ‘ St. Ives’ has the ingenuity of construction, the pregnant portraiture, 
the pungent, fresh and vivid dialogue, the bright local color, the swift 
appeal to the imagination, the shrewd wit, the constant surprise, which, in 
his works, has become a custom.”— Boston Transcript. 


SCRIBNER'S RECENT FICTION. 




Frank R. Stockton. 

The Girl at Cobhurst. i2mo, $1,50. 

^ “ It is the kind of a story that grows more interesting the deeper one gets 

into it, and the book will be laid aside with the feeling that the time spent in 
reading it has been well employed.” — New London Day. 

A Story-Teller’s Pack. Illustrated, lamo, $1.50. 


Uniform with “ A Story=Tener’s Pack”: 

Each, handsomely bound in a decorative cover, i2mo, $1.50. 

Mrs. Knollys, and Other Stories. By F. J. Stimson, author of 
“ Guerndale,” etc. 

“ Mr. Stimson’s qualities are here exhibited at their best.”— 7!^^ Outlook. 

“ They are marked by that fascinating suggestiveness which is one of 
Mr. Stimson’s charms .” — Public Opinion. 

The Bachelor’s Christmas, and Other Stories. By Robert 
Grant. Illustrated. 

“ There is no writer of short stories more lovable than Robert Grant, 
more strong and sweet and human and sunny. In his humor and in his 
pathos he is inimitable .” — The Interior. 

Comedies of Courtship. By Anthony Hope. 

“Without exception bright, racy and readable, clever . , . and 
worked out with a knowledge of men and women (especially women) and 
manners that is all too rare in these days of voluminous fiction.”— London 
Literary World. 

Love in Old Cloathes, and Other Stories. By H. C. Bunner. 
Illustrated. 

Mr. B. W. Wells has said in the Sewanee Review of this and the volume 
of “ Poems “ So these two posthumous volumes seem to me to sum up the 
best and noblest of Mr. Runner’s genius.” 

Two Companion Stories by Prank R. Stockton. Each, i2mo, 
$1.50. 

The Adventures of Captain Horn. 

Mrs. Cliff’s Yacht. Illustrated. 

“Those who remember ‘ The Adventures of Captain Horn,’ and all who 
read the book will remember it, have reason to thank Mr. Frank Stockton 
that he has not left them in suspense regarding the disposition of so much of 
the great treasure as fell to the share of Mrs. Cliff and of the Peruvian Gov- 
ernment. ‘Mrs. Cliff’s Yacht’ is the title of this sequel, and the wit and 
insight into human nature which the first part of the book shows makes a 
happy complement to the stirring adventures which occupied the last part, 
where the fate of the Peruvian treasure is nz.xxeX^^."— Atlantic Monthly. 

T. R. Sullivan. 

Ars et Vita. Illustrated. i2mo, $1.25. 

“The stories in Mr. Sullivan’s volume are all good and some of them 
quite captivating.”— New York Tribune. 


8 


SCRIBNER^S RECENT FICTION. 


Stories by Foreign Authors. Ten volumes, each, i6mo, 75 cents. 

“These dainty volumes are well printed and attractively bound, and 
commend themselves to the book buyer. The purchaser who treats himself 
to the little books as they appear will have quite an eclectic library of repre- 
sentative fiction.” — Detroit Free Press. 

FRENCH. 

I. — Daudet, France, About, Bourget, de Maupassant, and 
Sardou. 

II. — CoppEE, Zola, Souvestre, Droz, and Merim^e*. 

III. — Balzac, Loti, Gautier, Rod, and de Vigny. 

GERMAN. 

I . — Heyse, Lindau, Sacher-Masoch, Baumbach, Hoffman, 
and ZscHOKKE. 

II. — Auerbach, Kompert, Hauff, and von Chamisso. 

SPANISH. 

De Alarc6n, Selgas, Becquer, and Caballero. 

RUSSIAN. 

Turgenev, Poushkin, Gogol, and Tolstoi. 

SCANDINAVIAN. 

Bjornson, Aho, Goldschmidt, Kielland, and Bremer. 
ITALIAN. 

De Amicis, Fogazzaro, Castelnuovo, and D’Annunzio. 

POLISH, GREEK, BELGIAN AND HUNGARIAN. 
SiENKiEWicz, Bikelas, Maeterlinck, Lemonnier, and JOKAI. 

Stories by American Authors. New edition, uniform with above. 
Ten volumes, each, i6mo, 75 cents. 

Stories by English Authors. Ten volumes, each, i6mo, 75 cents. 

Benjamin Swift. 

The Tormentor. $1.50. 

“ It has much of the brilliant mental activitjr of ‘ Nancy Noon,’ and it is 
much maturer in its swift development of criminology. . . . None but a 

man as sure of his methods as Balzac would have dared to venture upon so 
original a study.”— Boston Herald. 

Nancy Noon. Fourth edition. i2mo, $1.50. 

Cy. Warman. 

The Express Messenger, and Other Stories of the Rail. i2mo, 
$1.25 

“ They are all dramatic stories, written with rare force, leavened by nat- 
ural humor, and reveal uncommon gifts of description and minute observa- 
tion. . . . Mr. Warman has a field of his own and he is master of it.” — 
Philadelphia Press. 

Tales of an Engineer, with Rhymes of the Rail. i2mo, $1.25, 









V 


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